Star Fox: Dark Tails
by xSimon
Summary: With the galactic cold war in major escalation, Star Fox embarks on a classified hunt for an enemy super weapon. While under the obsessed gaze of a maniacal emperor, haunted by the very sins of his father, and stalked by a sadistic business rival whose methods are nothing but cruel, Fox becomes the sole target of the most elusive of assassins whose motives are anything but sane.
1. Prologue

**STAR FOX: DARK TAILS  
**

_**Generations Book II**_

**by xSimon**

**Prologue -**

The shadows inside the bridge twisted with the light of Solar. There was a memory inside every shade, a ghost hiding in every corner.

Peppy didn't bother to look at them. He kept his eyes pointed to outer space, the stars outside the window. The endlessness of the void was a metaphor popular amongst men like him. A locker as deep as a black hole where memories, like insects drawn to a carnivorous plant, were led inside, devoured, and temporarily trapped. Forgotten.

Only when you become trapped by walls yourself will those memories be spat back into your face, puked out from the bowels of the void. You remember them, and like locusts to a farm, they swarm in full force, devouring your sanity one bite at time.

_"__So you're telling me that stupid, psychotic, warmongering ape is still alive?"_

Some memories tended to take bites bigger than others. The kind of memories that even the void couldn't swallow up without feeling nauseous.

_"__You're telling me he's been alive for the past forty freaking years and now he's declaring war on the whole system?"_

_"__No,"_ Fox barked back at Falco from the background. _"What I'm telling you is to shut up, and for love of god, let me think!"_

_"__What's to think? You damn Cornerians lied to the entire system and now you're getting your tails bit off for it. Sounds pretty fair if you ask me."_

In not time, he heard a _thud_ following what must've been a fist crashing into the broadside of a blabbering beak. Peppy forced his eyes to keep stuck onto the space outside the observation window, trying to ignore the rest of the "crew" roughhousing around like the kids they were.

He started to feel an icy shiver scale the disks of his spine. He prayed for the void to hold back those dark tails for a bit longer.

_Dark tails_

The thought brought up a quick, quiet chuckle from Peppy's throat, and for a moment those bugs crawling around his brain stopped and called a temporary ceasefire. _Dark tails_ was one of James's old trademarks. The phrase first came to life inside a bombed-out pub midway into the Seventh Invasion of Katina (Venom's favorite "punching bag" planet in Lylat), during the beginning of the Venom Conspiracy from forty years ago. The young James McCloud—the Lylat System's future messiah-for-hire—was only perhaps three shots into a bottle of whiskey when suddenly he outright called himself and the rest of the old crew, Peppy included, a hopeless bunch of bastards cursed with "dark tails".

Katina was the first _official_ job for Star Fox. Hell, even before they dropped into that hell storm they were already well acquainted from a suicidal expedition into the Borderlands—the uncharted "badlands" sitting outside Lylat's outer rim. Some wandering fox with a hefty pocketful of cash offered all seven of the original crew a contract that would be paid with a "secret fortune absent of unwanted fame". What he didn't bother to mention, until _after_ they managed to survive three weeks of celestial hell, was that this fortune was not actually just another treasure chest buried on some dead planet. It was a fortune of "tools" meant for an even greater fortune.

The Arwings and the Great Fox made them rich, and also turned them spoiled. Like punk kids carrying around guns with the idea that they were suddenly invincible, they each paid the price of their foolishness. Three of the original seven paid the price in full on Katina, the fourth during the Siege of Fortuna a few weeks later.

"It's like you've got a second shadow following you around," he remembered James drunkenly explaining himself back in that pub. "A second tail. It'll always be there in your wake. A part of you that'll never forget, never offer you mercy. Wherever you go, you'll leave a mark. You'll save a life while ending another. And if there's ever a time that you feel like you've done any good, something bad will be there following in your trail. You'll never see white without seeing black. You'll never do any good without doing evil."

Hard to imagine a gold-studded mercenary of Lylat pulling off anything "good". It was even harder to picture a galactic white knight like James McCloud doing anything _other_ than good. Thinking back to the old days, the truth of it all, Peppy could only smirk and shake his head.

He couldn't say for sure what James had been really trying to get at – the orange bastard was drunk and barely old enough to not be called a teenager back when he first gave that little speech. Peppy was just a kid back then as well, intoxicated all the same, so how could he know if he really heard James's words right?

If he had to guess, now, he'd say that a "dark tail" wasn't so much a curse as it was a person. A person who follows another's wake. A second shadow—a second tail—and a person who does everything a dark tail does onto whichever poor bastard he's attached to.

_Save a life… by ending another_

The idea was cruelly ironic for Peppy, and the very thought of it made him shiver from an imaginary chill.

"You alright?"

Peppy glanced half way to Fox, who was suddenly standing at his side. But he quickly allowed himself to fall into another thousand yard stare out the window.

Whatever _dark tails_ that had been following him around from before were all dead, and now all he had deal with were their ghosts… along with their offspring.

_Shame how I can't kill em a second time_

"Just thinking about history, is all," Peppy answered, sighing from a short-lived moment of peace.


	2. Chapter 1

**1 -**

The cheer was enough to leave his heart beating twice as slow. It barreled into his ears so loud that each and every voice may have well belonged to a mob of thousands.

The entire courtyard was in an uproar, hounds of all breeds, the rich and powerful of Corneria, all welcoming him like a homecoming hero. There were too many for him to count. His eyes were still trying to adjust to the ridiculous scale.

_"__Hey, Fox!" _he heard one voice speak above the others, and out from the corner of his eye, what he took to be a small, scruffy Dachshund raised up some bizarre looking camera from his long, lean torso. _"Smile for the Daily Fame!"_

Suddenly, a barrage of flashes began to fill the air around him when more photographers poked through the crowd to begin showering him with "daily fame". The flashes were so powerful that, for a moment, he could've sworn he saw the air before him transform into a smoky haze, and out past it flew a dozen Venom starfighters unleashing deathly flashes of light directly into his face. He felt his body flinch from a spasm, luckily stopping himself from dropping to the ground as if the fighters were real.

An arm suddenly scooped around his own, knocking his mind back into current history. He turned his head to see those all-too gorgeous green eyes of Rhyleen looking back to him, her fur groomed fancily with large ear rings supporting a bedazzling design of diamonds hanging above her bare shoulders. She wore an upper class getup in the same spotless fashion as his black cocktail suit, with her neatly groomed white and fawn tail lying atop her fluffy skirt that hung above her knees. Her strapless dress was wrapped tight across her chest and below her shoulders. Another robust piece of jewelry, a diamond necklace constructed in a similar design to her ear rings, rested between her young breasts and continued to sparkle from the camera flashes.

Such adornments must've been like plastic to a girl whose family owned a monopoly of half the planet's hotel casinos.

_"__Let's see a kiss!" _one of the more romantic reporters yelled out.

_"__C'mon, kiss her!"_

He instantly turned to the camera flashes and started laughing, embarrassingly, trying to ward off the incoming publicity. But like a love-hungry jaguar, Rhyleen had instantly pulled him back by his dress tie and planted her sweet nose right onto his. The sound of the cheers doubled in grandeur as their lips sucked and popped.

When the moment ended, Rhyleen wrapped her arm around his side and pulled him close. Her head turned back to take in the props and thunderous commotion fuming from the paparazzi, smiling and waving like a true movie star. Fox brought his eyes back forward, forcing his now exhausted lips to turn into a smile over his snout, trying to see straight past the relentless flashing.

_"__Hold me closer, Fox."_

Hearing Rhyleen whisper into his ear, he gradually squeezed her side closer against his. The warm sensation of her touch would've been mesmerizing on a more peaceful stage. But the chaotic praise of the crowd was causing his mind to wander into a ringing void where sounds gradually vanished into nothing. Soon, the _ring_ was all he could hear, and the hundreds of smiling faces before him appeared to slow down with time.

Time itself had begun to pass casually through his gaze, the same perception which struck him every time death was just a finger length away. The vulture assassin at the lower city saloon. The sniper at Slippy's workshop on Meteo. The dogfight above Bangelor where he shot down his first kills. And finally, all the other episodes that threw themselves at him like bullets during his sorties over a war-torn Corneria.

But this wasn't some attempt to reach out and send his soul screaming down to hell. This celebrity thing was violent, but it wasn't the same kind of "violent". The flashes coming at him weren't made from a sniper's gun barrel, and the muffled yells coming into his ears weren't cries of distress…

_Get a hold of yourself_

_Just a few months into the game and you're getting flashbacks?_

He closed an imaginary door on his instincts and allowed the tenseness in his face to melt. His lips gradually smiled as he continued to welcome the incoming applause.

* * *

The ballroom was decorated from the ground up with a wide range of ornaments and thingamabobs most of everybody inside didn't care to identify, or even acknowledge.

These people were the aristocrats of the branches of power here on Corneria. Some ranged from wealthy trade conglomerateers to highly decorated officers of the Cornerian military.

_And they're all here for me…_

_Boy, am I awesome_

All of it struck Fox with the same sense of popularity that was so familiar to him back during school. But school was long lost in the past. These halls weren't jam-packed with a bunch of juvenile doppelgangers praising his every step like disciples to a star quarterback. These were business executives and generals saluting a war hero, grown men of power two to three times his age.

_And they're all here for me…_

"Mr. McCloud."

A grayish Scotty wearing a set of naval dress-blues with his coat stamped full with merits approached him from the front, accompanied by a shorter Scotty who Fox instantly recognized to be Stewart from school.

"Captain Halswart," the older Scotty introduced himself with a slight bow. "I command the CCV Vindicator. I believe you know my son, Stewart."

"Hey, Fox," the little Scotty spoke from the shadow of his old man's side.

"Hey, Stew."

"I also do believe a share of gratitude is in order." The captain extended a quick hand which Fox accepted even quicker. "Thank you for saving my son. And though I have never been much of a fan of those belonging to your father's particular trade... I'm relieved that his son holds true to the virtues of honor and duty like he once did."

"I would've saved Calidame for free if I was aware my friends were at risk, captain."

The captain twisted his furry blackish lips into a smile. "Good man," he said with another nod. "Perhaps then you should consider becoming a full pledged member of the Cornerian navy. I believe they would ignore enlistment protocols for your initiation and you'd make a fine captain and a wonderful example for our men, _and_ you would be doing so with the reputation of a soldier of principle… rather merely a soldier of fortune."

Fox tried to work in a grin but it came short just above a frown. Instead of continue the conversation, the captain gave him a final nod of approval and took his leave. Once his son silently passed by his side, however, he quickly stopped him.

"Hey, Stew?" said Fox. "Do you know if Bill got out of Central alright?"

"He left after graduation—before the invasion," said Stewart. "Didn't even stay for prom. He said Katina was pulling him back for basic training. He packed his stuff and left that night."

_Figures the cocky sonofabitch isn't around to see me now_

_Glad he's alright, though_

"See ya later, Fox." The Scotty briefly gave a glance and a shy smile towards his side. "See ya, Rhyleen."

Fox instantly blinked upon forgetting that the Rough Collie had been glued to his side since the moment he stepped onto the red carpet. He quickly glanced over, seeing her continue to smile grandly at the empty space in front of her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, skeptical of her model pose.

_"__Smile!"_

He turned to look ahead and suddenly was met with a blinding flash that nearly caused him to hit the deck. The hidden paparazzi jumped from the dark behind an open window, laughing while he scurried from the scene just as security guards rushed forward in pursuit.

Further into the party, there was the sound of classical music rising from cellos and violins. It was funny, Fox wondered, how the entire show felt like a regular stroll into a Katinan palace (Katina was notorious for keeping to the ancient ways of sophisticated royalty). A union of laughs suddenly bustled from the following room. Around the corner ahead, there was a rising smug of cigar smoke from a circle of coffee tables and love chairs occupied by several lower officers, mostly well-groomed midshipmen sporting the Cornerian Space Academy uniforms. The pack of hounds appeared to surround one chair in particular, the ridiculously _blue_ feathers rising over the top of the prime seat revealing _who_ the "alpha" of attention was…

"You think _that's_ something?" the cartoon bird blurted out, a burning cigar stuck between the corner of his yellow beak, his body clothed tight in a cocktail suit, the same as Fox's, with half of that red sun tattoo on his neck exposed past his collar. "Let me tell you about the time I knocked out a crocodile with just a spoon and a fifth of tequila." Falco immediately paused after glancing to his side, his eyes within his azure face suddenly growing squinty between the scarlet feathers around his sockets. _"Better yet,_ how about the time I saved Pussycat over there from a million little robots trying to make babies with him inside his cockpit?"

The midshipmen immediately burst out laughing again, but soon turned around and realized Fox was standing right behind them, in the flesh, stone-faced.

Fox decided to try out his own hand at stories. "How about the time you squealed like a pig while you had six missiles flying up your ass?"

There were some "O"s echoing from the midshipmen.

"Yeah, sure, I remember that." Falco pinched his cigar with his feathery fingers and blew a puff of smoke into the air. "Right after they got a look at you and decided to come after me. I mean, c'mon, with a baby face like yours, they probably figured it'd be immoral."

The small audience of naval students laughed again, a clean-cut Rottweiler among them leaning forward to offer Falco a full glass of brandy as a reward.

"That's not how I remember it," Fox spoke back, folding his arms.

"That's the truth, Pussycat. Love and believe it."

"Nah, I remember hearing one of those little _love robots_ from before whispering they got a peek down the bird's pants... and felt insanely sorry for him."

Laughter arose even harder from the midshipmen as the Rottweiler from before leaned forward to take back his full drink, just as Falco was in the middle of taking a sip. The dog rose up and reached over, offering the glass to Fox.

With a broad grin, he accepted the glass, and turning to his side, he offered it to Rhyleen, who took it with an even broader grin before giving him a brief kiss. Some of the midshipmen clapped their hands while continuing to laugh at the class act.

"I'll be signing autographs at the bar," Fox spoke his exiting line. "Bring your friends."

As he walked away with Rhyleen holding him close, he could see Falco in the corner of his eye sitting still like a fruity colored statue, his beak closed shut with the smoke of his cigar drifting up from his fingers and over his bitter eyes.

They passed across the room which housed the band giving birth to the musical flow. Seeing them play suddenly brought Fox back to the lower city, to his first steps down into the outlaw saloon where a brotherhood of giant geckos tried their hands at smooth jazz through the bowels of foreign instruments. The band that was playing this moment were all hounds, fine dressed and combed to perfection. The lack of diversity brought him back to his days at the academy, this racial superiority cutting out "lesser races" from the social hierarchy.

It made him wonder about his own position. What did everybody see him as? Just another purebred in a costume, or some orange-furred freak who somehow managed to miraculously impress the entire world to the point they decided to hold a ball in his honor?

The memories of the lower city suddenly brought up Wolf's face to the front of his thoughts – wraithlike yellow eyes surrounded by a cloud of cigarette smoke. He quickly shrugged it off and tried to ignore it.

_Every scar has a story behind it, kid_

"Hey, Slip," he quickly spoke after spotting the plump amphibian. He was standing in a fatter cocktail suit towards the corner beside a draped window, a full glass of some kind of clear drink frozen to his palm.

The toad appeared to be minding his own business, staring ahead into space. When Fox stepped closer towards him, he suddenly picked out the familiar hiss of clattering drum symbols along with an electric guitar. He noticed a wire running up the fat lump of the toad's gut and divide into twin lines around his black bowtie, each ending at his microscopic ears.

He grinned with a shake of his head before tapping the toe of his dress shoe against Slippy's shin. The toad instantly jumped to his own toes, breaking into a chuckle after pulling his earphones down to hang over his shoulder.

"You know they got music playing just over there." Fox nudged his head back to the band. "Don't need that ancient piece of crap to stay occupied."

Slippy returned him with a shrug, his unnaturally wide lips cringing at the sounds of cellos and violins strumming a classical melody. "Sorry, I do like strings, but only if they're jamming from a guitar."

"Rock lives forever, brothah."

Slippy cracked into a snigger. "For-_evah."_

"Fox?" Rhyleen suddenly made her almost invisible presence alive, again. "Aren't you gonna introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh, sorry." He cleared his throat, playing the gentleman card. "Slippy, this is Rhyleen. Rhyleen, Slippy Toad. He's the best tech expert Lylat's bred in years. Two months ago he was just tinkering with junkers back in Meteo, and look at him now… back in the black."

Slippy's current grin hiccuped what could have been another one of his reluctant croaks. He raised his hand in good faith towards Rhyleen.

"Wow…" Rhyleen seemed to ignore his gesture in favor of staring unusually deeply at his round face, as if it were a piece of foreign art. "Are you really a…?"

"Toad?" Slippy's lips cracked into a chuckle. "Last time I checked," he answered while examining his webbed fingers along his free hand.

While he flexed his fingers, the glass in his opposite hand suddenly slipped free of his grasp and fell like a glass meteor to the floor, shattering on contact after spilling a sliver across his black dress coat. He hissed a curse while several nearby patrons exchanged awkward stares in his direction.

"Sorry," he apologized to Rhyleen, mostly, and quickly wiped his hand across the wet stain on his coat sleeve. "It's just water. I swear."

"Slimy fins, eh?" said Fox, grinning.

The toad groaned. _"Fish_ have slime. _Frogs_ have mucous."

"Just try not to get any on Rhyleen. You'll probably scare her away."

The toad (or frog) finished wiping his coat clean and looked up, his expression taken aback. "Looks like I already did."

Fox turned to his side and was met with nothing but space. Turning around, he eventually spotted Rhyleen who had begun chatting it up with a female Saint Bernard. Coincidentally enough, the husky, flabby-faced woman who wore a dress that looked like it had been dipped in clear-cut diamonds looked familiar to the famed Madame Loretia, the headmistress of the _Calidame School for Design and Fashion._ Rhyleen would occasionally turn her head around, giving a pretty smile towards Fox.

He could only guess she was using him as part of her résumé to win over an easy scholarship.

_And it only took a war for me to finally get a girlfriend…_

"Celebrity couples never last, eh?" said Slippy.

"I don't know." Fox shrugged his shoulders and turned his head back, blindly staring towards the vanilla white blinds covering the window beside them.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just…"

He felt his words come through hollow and meaningless, eventually allowing his lips to close as a deep sigh started to drift from his cold nose.

"Did we do a good job?" Slippy suddenly asked after a moment of classical music filled the air. "I mean, really, could we have done better. Save more people? Drive the apes out faster?"

"There's no real answer, Slip." In truth, he was almost sure that they could've done better. For one, they could've gotten into the game faster before Janneral City was blown to the next dimension. "That's like asking if time can go backwards instead of forward."

"Sounds like something Peppy would say. Where is he, anyways?"

"Haven't seen him all day."

The two of them again dropped into a boring silence. It wasn't long until Fox fought past the troubling boredom with a random question.

"What were you really drinking just then?" he asked, staring down to glass shards still littering the floor between their feet.

"Honestly? _Oh,_ a bit of this and that…" Slippy quickly brushed his foot over the mess and hid the glass under the loveseat sitting beside the window. He looked back up and shook his head, trying to hold back a grin. "Just water. You forget I'm underage?"

"So am I. No drinking age for liberators." Fox leaned his shoulder against the wall to his right and casually folded his arms, giving birth to another grin. "What is twelve frog years on a canine scale?

"Eighteen," Slippy answered, but sounded a bit unsure of himself. "Maybe nineteen. I'll be sure to ask the next frog I see, eh?"

"Well played, Slip."

They both cracked into a shared laugh while minding their business away from the rest of the party, and Falco who continued to spew cigar smoke and cheap laughter over around the corner with his temporary naval fans. But the rest of the patrons appeared content while diving into their separate real-world conversations, none of them really acknowledging the heroes of the day anymore, not like they did when they first arrived inside. "Heroes of the day"… more like heroes of yesterday.

_Funny…_

_Ten minutes in and I'm already boring to look at_

"Mr. McCloud?" a voice suddenly spoke from behind him.

_Well, maybe not yet_

He turned around, slapping back on his celebrity smile, expecting to find some admiral or politician coming to congratulate him. Instead, he awkwardly met eyes with a young greyhound sporting a butler's attire.

"Beg your pardon, sir," the boney faced hound spoke in a way which made Fox think he was some kind of royal prince. "There's an urgent request coming from a _Captain Marlow_ of the Calidame police? You're needed away on a personal matter."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"I… No, sir. Actually, I believe the situation involves one belonging to your crew."

Fox blinked. He glanced to Slippy who glanced back, clueless as well. He then looked over to Falco – he would've been the prime suspect if he wasn't here at the moment. The only name that was left on the dark stage caused his lips along his snout to go limp.

"Peppy?"

"Yes, sir, I believe that name was mentioned in the message."

"Hail a cab for me," he ordered the butler and then turned to meet Slippy's clueless gaze. "I'll go see what's up."

"What? And I'm supposed to stand here in the corner like a gargoyle? This sorta environment doesn't fit around my waist, dude."

"Just go on and listen to your death metal." Fox began his leave for the rear exit. "Or have a few drinks. Loosen up a little."

_"__I'm underage,"_ the toad's high pitched voice echoed back, loud enough it caused some more awkward glances to poke at his slimy—_mucous_-covered presence.


	3. Chapter 2

**2 -**

The cab dropped him off at the destination where the message told him to go. Looking ahead, there was a small crowd standing outside what shockingly took Fox to be a police barricade set up within an upper city outdoor mall. Looking to the building in question, which appeared to be under some kind of quarantine, the title spelled out above the glass door caused Fox's shoulders to slump.

_Lucky's Drinking Bowl_

A bar. The very spectacle of it spoke of something unbelievable. Working his way into the lines of curious spectators, he began to hear the voices of the lawmen spew orders to stay back. On top of that, one voice began to come around as the strongest. Anger was the easiest emotion to pick out from it.

_"…__and somehow he swiped my gun from under the counter and started waving it around like a lunatic."_

Fox breached past the walls of hounds to the front line, seeing a fat bulldog clothed in a black button up shirt with a golden studded collar around his neck talking to the police, wiping a white handkerchief across his saggy neck.

_"__Just relax, sir," _said one of the officers. _"We'll get this straightened out as soon as possible."_

_"__This is why I don't serve his kind!"_ The bulldog, obviously the "Lucky" who owned the bar, continued to shoot bits of spit through his waggling cheeks. _"Damn long-ears will steal everything off you before you know you lost anything to begin with. And this one grows the stones to scare off my customers and wave my own gun in my face?"_

_ "__Sir, if you spit in my face again, I'll be forced to detain you."_

Peppy must've been inside, up to god knows what. Loosening the tie and collar of his suit around his neck, he lifted a foot to begin stepping over the yellow metal blockade. But the moment he took his first step over, he was instantly met by the paws of a cop.

"Hey, what are you doing, kid? Get back over the…"

The cop fell silent immediately after Fox looked him in the eye—_glared _rather than just looked. The tall officer obviously knew who he was. He shrugged off his grip and continued his march to where the bartender continued blabbering in front of the police captain.

"I'm telling ya," the bulldog went on, "this kinda crap wouldn't come to surface if we kept all these off-world scumbags down in the Lowers with the rest of the trash."

"Or maybe you could serve us like customers instead of sewer rats, you sonofabitch."

The bulldog instantly shot him a despicable glance. "Hey, who do you think you… Wait, aren't you that fox hero?"

"Captain, what the hell is going on?" Fox approached the cop he figured to be the hound who messaged him.

The police captain, an old Great Dane with saggy lips hanging low over his jaw, turned to acknowledge his arrival with work-stressed eyes. "Your friend scared away everyone in the saloon after stealing a gun from the barkeep," he explained in a voice tired from working overtime.

"Scared away _me_ included," the bartender added. "Drove me outta my own place with my own gun. What am I supposed to do about that?"

"He… _apparently_ threatened the barkeep after being told the place was barred off to all non-canids."

"Long-ears, especially."

_"__Rabbits_ included," the captain rephrased, boringly.

"Is he still in there?" Fox looked past the glass of the front doors, but soon found his answer in the form of a lone silhouette perched at what must've been the bar counter.

"I've ordered my men to stay back," the captain continued. "Our sniper will hold fire as long as your friend doesn't do anything crazy."

Fox turned back once the captain took a step closer to him.

"Look…" The old police hound softened his tone. "My family took shelter inside Central Academy during the invasion. They wouldn't have gotten out if it wasn't for you. I'll send for a cab to wait outside the back door. If you can convince your friend to leave, peacefully, we'll forget this ever happened."

Fox felt himself close his lips that were hanging open just a second ago. He gave a nod of thanks and turned to approach the front doors.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" the bulldog suddenly barked. "You're letting that purse snatcher walk away free? That garbage licker stole my gun!"

"Sergeant?"

"Seems you've drunk up all your luck, big boy." A female officer stepped forward and started clapping cuffs on the bulldog's fat wrists. "Records show that gun's already stolen. This is what happens when you license a military-grade shotgun you bought off some cut-rate street dealer, you dumbass."

"Alright, people, let's keep this zone clear," said the captain, his voice suddenly rising out of the grave and becoming livelier. "And get these goddamn thrill seekers off my barricade. This isn't a tourist trap! Move!"

Fox made his way up the steps to the doorway while the rotary blue lights of the squad cab lit the inside on and off, showing what he assumed to be Peppy sitting alone at the bar. Pushing the doors open, he allowed them to close behind, shutting off the sound of crowd chatter and creating a surprisingly peaceful aura within the empty establishment.

Peppy was there, alright, sitting at a stool at the center of the bar. Two empty bottles of some off-world liquor stood at attention beside his arm. With the other arm, he supported his head up while hiding his face under his palm. His ears lied lifelessly over his back where his tan flight coat hung past the stool and scrapped at his ankles, still and without a single flicker of discomfort.

He wanted to make his presence clear to the old hare, but something kept his tongue at bay and his lips inert, like an old memory coming back to life before his eyes. He gradually took a seat upon the neighboring stool at the hare's right, folding his hands upon the counter, like a patron waiting to be served.

"Skip," the hare finally broke his silence, his voice muffling past his jacket collar.

"Pep."

"Good party?"

Fox let out a breath through his nostrils, continuing to sit at ease. "Yeah, it was fine."

The hare grumbled while rubbing the side of his face harder against his palm.

"You too drunk to talk?"

_"__Drunk?"_ the hare spoke in a slur. "You haven't… _seen _Uncle Pep drunk… _yet."_

"What do you call this, then?" said Fox while turning to take in the miserable side of his face. "Shit-faced?"

The hare lazily brushed his free hand forward. Fox suddenly saw what he guessed to be the bartender's stolen shotgun slide off the front of the counter and fall to the ground behind, disappearing from sight.

"Nope," the hare answered, carelessly.

"There a reason why you decided to choose this bar out of the hundreds of others?"

Finally, Peppy dropped his other arm while keeping his head up, revealing the wrinkles digging into the fur coated along his cheek. His whiskers appeared slick with sweat. His head swung a little from side to side from the sudden lack of support. His hand reached out and managed to clasp onto one of the empty bottles in front of him, dragging it across the oak wood surface into better view of his wasted gaze.

"You see this?" he slurred some more as he lifted up the bottle like a birthday present. _"Longfoot Ale… _imported all the way from Clover… _reserved…_ for _me."_

"And so you stole the barkeep's gun just so you could get drunk off of it."

The hare rolled his wobbly head to face him. His face was the ultimate picture of a rabbit's future hangover. The look in his eyes were putting off a drunken innocence that would've been laughable if it was anybody else but Peppy.

"I'm not… dr_unk," _he dizzily defended himself. "Who are _you_ to say I've… had enough… _junior?"_

Fox twisted his neck to look ahead, biting down his teeth while shutting his eyes, shaking his head away from the disgrace Peppy had been flooding into the air. "What is this, Peppy? Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"I know what I'm do_ing,"_ he answered while twisting the bottle in his hand upside down, allowing it to drip down past the bore and onto the counter surface. "You see… it's all a part of the plan. The perfect _damn_ plan—_always_ the same _damn _plan. _Flyyy_ in… _flyyy _out… but, then…"

He suddenly erupted a childish sound effect of an explosion from his puffed up lips, just as he dropped the bottle onto the counter.

_"__Always…_ It always had to be _your_ plan… damned James."

"Pep," said Fox, beginning to grow weary of the old hare's drunk-talk. "If we leave now, we can…"

Peppy suddenly broke past his stillness and swung his arm forward, violently batting away both empty bottles, causing one of them to shatter the glass cabinet sheltering a hundred filled assortments of booze.

To Fox's total confusion, and worry, the hare had lowered his head and began to laugh past his closed lips. His tempo began to rise to the point he was hysterical.

_"__Leave?"_ His voice repeated the word through his laughing. "Tell _me_ to leave? So… you die… I don't… _yep?"_

Fox watched as Peppy's body joggled from his chuckles, and he began to wonder whether or not this was still "laughter" coming out of the hare's snout.

_"__You're w_rong, _stooo… _pid… You're… you're never wrong… you…" The hare spit out a final chuckle through his snout, now starting to drool from the corner of his lip. "Take care of the boy… keep him away… _Dead men pass… sons follow last… The comet of crucibles."_

The words sparked his memory like a match on bare skin. Those final words. They weren't Peppy's. They were Dad's words, from his journal, and Peppy was speaking them aloud as if he had forgotten Fox was sitting right beside him.

Peppy was drowning in a thousand yard stare that appeared to go beyond a thousand and over ten thousand. "So you're no different from em," he spoke on, his voice coming through a bit more clear, but lacked the previous enthusiasm. _"We're_ no different… No matter what, nothin'll ever change… Even _you_ saw that." He spat out the last words like a curse. _"James, you fu—"_

Fox watched without blinking as Peppy suddenly raised his hand and appeared to stamp his thumb and index finger into his eyes, as if he were damming up for a coming flood. But even the painful display didn't stop his body from tensing up, and the breaths of air coming from his lips escaping past a cringe rather than a smile.

The old hare gradually broke down before Fox's eyes and Fox could only watch, speechlessly. Peppy had allowed his hand covering his eyes to drop and fall down to the counter, his back hunched as his face began gushing a hidden agony through tears and shaking breaths. His eyes were staring down into thin air as his emotions broke past his iron discipline and turned the world inside his head into a waterfall of sorrow and hopelessness.

The very sight would've caused Fox to break down all the same. That is if it wasn't for the blue flashes of squadcabs painting the walls opposite of the front door. He gradually rose up from his stool and turned to face the back doors beside the other end of the bar counter. He turned his head back and placed his hand upon the hare's shoulder.

"C'mon, old timer," he spoke softly in a way that made the night feel done and over with. "Let's go home."

The sound of the word "home" was probably what convinced Peppy to slowly roll on his buttocks and slip back onto his feet. Keeping one hand on the counter, he used the other to grip the back of Fox's jacket. With his first wobbly steps, Fox wrapped the hare's arm over his shoulder and began supporting his slow, intoxicated trudge. The police lights continued to cover their backs in coats of blue until they reached the back door and disappeared into shadow.

The bar behind them lied empty, just a single empty bottle and some broken glass on the floor being the only evidence they were ever there.

* * *

_**If you overlooked it, this is Book**__** Two**__** of my Generation series-that said, I highly recommend reading Book One (Star Fox: Generations) before diving any deeper into Dark Tails (c'mon, it's not THAT long ;D). I've taken some advice from other authors here and decided to submit a piece of the story every few days or whatever (depends on the weather...). So, SORRY to the cheaters out there, you won't be able to skip to the ending this time around (*evil laugh*). While you're waiting for the next chapters, please feel free to review and comment! This is my first fan-fiction project and any sort of critique (preferably the constructive sort) will help me greatly in my future writing pursuits.  
**_


	4. Chapter 3

**3 -**

The door behind him closed as he reached up to unbutton his collar. The cool air of the VIP suite dried the humid sensation trapped under his shirt.

Fox glanced back to the bedroom door, wondering if Peppy would be alright sleeping off those two bottles of booze without a spotter. There was a sudden rustle of sheets and a lazy moan arising from the lounge surrounding the personal bar. Funnily enough, the room resembled the Great Fox's crew lounge so much he nearly expected to see frozen, star-speckled space outside the window rather than lines of speeding hovercab traffic.

"Who is that?" he spoke aloud when another moan echoed from one of the couches. "Slippy?"

The toad's arm suddenly rose from above the couch that faced away towards the window. His webby fingers began to flutter like a magician's. _"Heeeyyy…"_

"You've gotta be kidding me. You, too?"

"No, Mum, I been good." To Fox's bewilderment, he heard a repetitious echo of gasps which reminded him of a kitten preparing to cry. _"No, no, no…_ I been _baaad… _I'm drunk."

"Slippy, I was only gone for an hour."

"No you _weren't."_

"Where's Falco?"

_"__There…"_ One of his long fingers began to twirl around the air, disoriented, till finally stopping on the window to the outside, all before dropping down behind the couch, back out of sight.

Great. Peppy was drunk with depression, Falco was probably out getting drunk, and Slippy was just… _drunk._ Fox was left as the last sober man standing, basically alone inside a cold dark room, and _sleep_ was the last thing on his thoughts.

Calidame had been his home for over a decade but he never did know much about it apart from the district around the academy. There were plenty of things to do during the night—well, maybe not as much anymore thanks to the recent invasion, and martial law just recently coming out of effect—but nothing special appeared to spark his interest. No secret clubs or current movies at the cinema he's been meaning to see. When sleep felt like the perfect thing to pass the time with, every inch of his brain refused it.

_There is one thing I've been meaning to see_

Just one thing, but even that was toying with Fox's conscious, even as he began to mindlessly walk out the door and onto the balcony where a hovercab lied in wait, wondering where exactly he wanted to go.

* * *

It was strange how much the air felt easier to breathe here on Corneria. It wasn't like trying to suck in recycled gas from a space station. Here, it flowed easy and peacefully into your nostrils, almost perfectly clean of pollution, and overall, it helped your body feel just a little bit closer to peace.

Fox was looking at the milky lights mingling with the shadows across the yard. The grass was perfectly green with the cobblestone walkways completely clean. Trees poked up from the artificial earth and waved with a steady breeze, every so often letting one dauntless leaf dance off from a perch and drift steadily towards one of the dozens of gravesites.

The yard was empty, with the exception of him, some groundskeeper brushing a broom nearby, and what eventually arose to his sight as a family of night owls. Small brown terriers dressed like homeless were walking by until finally stopping at one particular patch of ground that was covered with pretty flowers. It was at the center of this patch there was another one of the many name plaques stapled to marble stones, one of the newer ones. A gravesite like any other, but one which obviously stood itself out from the rest with a name that brought the entire family, and perhaps even time itself, to a complete standstill.

They stood there for minutes. Fox continued to stand off to the corner, watching them, too shy to reveal himself. Ironically, the sanctuary seemed to possess more life than what was silently trapped beneath his chest.

"Your father changed a lot of lives in his time."

He quickly turned his head to the side and was met with the hideously wrinkled black face of what looked like a dusty old pug. His simple grey overalls and work gloves asserted he was the sanctuary groundskeeper. His dark eyes were directed downwards as he wiped a broom over the cobblestones, appearing to be minding his own just several paces away.

"Changed a lot of lives for the better," he continued to speak in a spacey, almost distant voice, continuing to sweep the stray leaves from the walkway. "Some not as much as others. But still, most of em for the better."

Looking back to the homeless family, they had just finished paying their respects, and the two parents gradually began to lead their pubescent pup for the exit. For a split moment, Fox watched the pup turn around and rush back to the grave, where he planted what looked like a small dandelion on top of the bocce, before quickly returning to the warm side of his mother.

"Don't these people sleep?" Fox felt himself speak.

"Hard to sleep after an army gets done tearing up your home," the groundskeeper answered. "Makes your mind drift back and dwell around those olden days. Thinkin bout what you lost, what you gained. Who you saved, who saved you… Your pop did plenty of those things. Lived a helluva life. Certainly changed mine."

Fox turned his head to the left to find the rather short old pug standing at ease beside him, resting some of his weight on top his broom as if it were a walking stick. He was staring out towards the yard, more specifically at what must've been Dad's little memorial.

Fox continued to watch the side of the pug's face. His forehead was dawned with even more wrinkles that slouched over his peaceful eyes that were shaded under a rough-stitched work cap that made him look like he was living from somewhere far away in the past.

But as the pug steadily breathed through his sagging nostrils, something else came across Fox's eyes, something barely visible along the side of the dog's neck. Despite coming through hazily past his graying fur and being half protected under his shirt collar, he was still able to depict what looked like two faded batwings tattooed over the skin.

It was the same damned symbol that was branded on the buzzard who tried to kill him months ago back in the lower city.

_"__Sonofabitch."_

Without second thought, he reached out and took an iron grip around the pug's collar and pulled him to the side. Kicking the back of his legs, he brought him instantly to his knees just as he pulled out his hidden pistol that was tucked between his pants atop his tail and shoved the barrel into the back of the pug's neck.

"Changed your life, did he?" he hissed past his gritted teeth. "And you just thought you'd return the favor by gunning down his flesh and blood, is that it?"

"You don't need to do this," said the pug, surprisingly calmly while his hands kept raised from his sides. His voice had also changed, drastically, now putting off a foreign accent. "Though if you did, I wouldn't blame you for it."

"Why are you here?"

"I work here," the pug explained, flawlessly, despite having a gun barrel jamming into the back of his head. "I've been watching after the yard for two months now."

"It's pretty damn convenient how you're here with a Nightwing on your neck the same time I get here, and just after I got done kicking the rest of you apes back to Venom."

"What you accomplished was no less than incredible," he spoke as calmly as before. "But my life of wearing a cloak ended a long time before the invasion began."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you only to heed my words, young McCloud. Whether you choose to believe them or not, that is up to you."

Fox felt some of the hot air swelling his lungs gradually slip past his nostrils, and with a quick aggravated groan, he released his grip on the old dog's collar and lowered his gun. "If you try anything…"

"I won't." The pug rose back to his feet. "You have my word."

"Yeah." Fox continued to maintain a tight grip around the pistol's handle. "The word of an assassin is definitely worth its weight in dogshit."

"Contradictory to what you have likely faced," the pug explained while facing him with a calm, reserved demeanor, "my past profession did not allow me to directly confront my targets with a loaded gun, but rather required my eyes to be the weapon of choice."

"You mean you were a spy."

"In a word, yes, I was." The pug casually stood at ease while keeping his hands at his sides, visible and still.

"What's your name?"

"It's Virgil, now," answered the pug. "I was forced to relinquish the name of my birth shortly after I began my last assignment."

"And let me guess what that was." Fox folded his arms with his pistol still in hand. "Spying on my father."

The pug's lips appeared to twitch as if a smirk was attempting to gain an expressional beachhead. "An assignment neither I nor any of my old superiors would have ever imagined to last as long as it did. Indeed, it was very odd at first how they dedicated me as a resource to watching over a small band of mercenaries instead of one of our more formal adversaries." He paused and took a deep breath. "However, in time, it gradually grew less odd and came to be more of an honor, really."

"An honor, eh?"

The pug briefly bowed his head. "I spent forty years of my life witnessing your father triumph over odds that would've likely destroyed anybody else. Sufficed to say, while Lylat was fed with only secondhand stories and fairy-tales regarding your father's exploits, only I and his team members were the ones to have witnessed all these stories come true right before our very eyes."

"You spent forty years just watching the guy and nothing else?" Fox felt his head slowly shake. "No sabotage or anything? You're pushing what I can believe."

"It was paramount, according to my superiors, that a constant watch must be held on Star Fox as to…" He briefly cleared his throat. _"…ascertain knowledge of allies, rivals, supplies, and tactics as to further develop a consensus on the possibility of employing their services, and in worst case, eliminating them from the galactic equation."_

Fox felt the muscles in his face grow limp. "You're saying Venom was trying to hire my father?"

"Of course," the pug answered, a little bit more enthusiastically. "You're father's team were among the best in the business, if not _the_ best. My superiors weren't at all going to waste the opportunity to gain an extremely valuable asset on our side, rather than mindlessly obliterate it."

"And that's where you came in."

The pug nodded in accord. "My role in the game came to be more like a—how to describe it—a _birdwatcher._ I sat from a distance, studied them, learned of their characters, their dispositions, their tendencies. There were times when I peeked too close and was forced to change my identity: my race, my voice, my name… Your father possessed an amazing ability to sense my presence. One of many things I grew to admire about him."

"Wait a minute," Fox immediately interrupted when something peculiar came to his thoughts. "You said you changed your race?"

"Twice, as a matter of fact," said the pug. "I began as a chimp, decided to try my hand as a cat but grew quickly annoyed with the side effects regarding felines and… _fur balls,_ I believe they call them. Finally, I settled with what you see before you now, and I must say, I do find this particular breed to be much more like my original self. It's a… _comforting_ thought, in relevance to the pains of the surgical procedures."

Fox could've sworn he felt his stomach churn out of impulse. "That's… unsettling."

"You have no idea." The pug (or _ape-cat-dog)_ appeared to frown even deeper. "Yet as time progressed and our offers of employment continued to be ignored, my mission eventually grew to be a lesser concern. Your father's increasingly troubling business relationship with the Cornerians grew to be more formal. Unsurprising to me, as to you as well, Star Fox became more of an _enemy_ in the eyes of my old nation, and efforts to employ them had been severely reduced, if not abandoned entirely."

Fox watched as the pug examined the graveyard as if he possessed a supernatural set of eyes that could depict the numerous spirits walking about the fake grass. "And they abandoned you in the process."

The pug slowly took in a breath through his nostrils. "No," he answered after a moment of pause. "Instead, they changed the parameters of my mission, began to utilize me as a weapon rather than an observer, despite my training did not support the use of unnecessary violent force. I eventually lost faith that my nation's intentions were pure and just. The Lord of Houses sought to destroy that which he could not gain. He became reckless and too arbitrary in his decisions. He became a fool."

"Lord of Houses?" The title struck a memory dart into the back of Fox's head, something he learned from history class at the academy. "You mean Andross?"

"Star Fox became nothing but an enemy in the emperor's eyes," said the pug while turning his head back to face him. "And soon I shared the same fate and became nothing but an enemy in the eyes of my own empire."

"You helped him," Fox spoke the revelation, suddenly feeling the grip on his pistol loosen almost to the point he dropped it. "My father – you helped him, didn't you?"

"Forty years of deployment—you could probably guess—has a way of tempting the spirit and challenging one's faith," the pug answered, the apathy in his face suddenly beginning to transform into something more doubtful. "I did what I believed was right, and in doing so, I betrayed my oath as well as my own people."

Fox frowned when he realized he was still holding his gun with his finger on the trigger. Letting a silent breath coast through his lips he pressed the pistol back between the rear of his pants and flipped out the flap of his coat to conceal it.

"So I would assume then you believe me?" said the pug. "I know that given my past I could never hope to be ever called _trustworthy."_

"That's a tall tale, Virgil," said Fox. "But not tall enough it can't be true."

"Thank you, Fox."

"But I still don't trust you, because that didn't answer the original question." He continued to glare at the ex-spy. "Why are you here now?"

Fox wasn't very surprised to see the pug drift from focus and take several steps to the side, his attention wandering around the space surrounding him.

"It would be a personal subject I'd prefer to keep unsaid," he answered, eventually. "But given the circumstances, I…"

He paused again when his wandering eyes turned and crossed the sight of the graves sitting within the yard, including the one which sat within a small mound of fresh, lively flowers.

"I was only a boy," he went on to explain. "Barely old enough to be called a man, back when I originally accepted this assignment. For almost my entire life, I stood by and watched your father, as both an enemy and eventually what I would dare to call a _friend._ Even after my roots were severed, I continued to watch, and sometimes held the pleasure of foiling an attack on him by my old comrades. But mostly, I just watched. Sadly… it was all I knew and all I could do."

The pug bent over briefly to reclaim his dropped broom, slowly reasserting the role of a groundskeeper.

"In the coming days, McCloud," Virgil spoke as he gradually began to sweep away the individual leaves poke-a-dotting the sidewalk, "I ask that you don't lose sight of what is black and what is grey. Do what you must to accomplish your mission, but do only that what _needs_ to be done. There is a life aboard every ship you shoot down, and not always will it be as dark in spirit as your true enemy… the one creature that you must rid from this system to put an end to this madness."

Virgil went about and returned to his duties while Fox watched him drift into another spacey, outlandish presence. He wasn't sure whether or not to speak or do anything apart from stand on stone feet. But as he stared, something began to tap the tips his pointy ears, and soon his snout, causing the muscles to flicker. He looked up to the now grey night atmosphere and saw miniature sparkles of droplets begin to pour lightly from out of nowhere. The rain was light at first, but eventually grew in magnitude, soaking his suit from the jacket collar down to his trousers. His orange and white fur turned instantly sleek and changed into a light mixture of dark amber and vanilla. Rubbing off some of the water along his snout and whiskers, he gradually looked down and around, suddenly realizing Virgil was gone, like the shadow he claimed to be. Or perhaps he just rushed in to avoid getting wet, as if his work apparatus was more expensive than Fox's ballroom getup.

Before he allowed himself to zone out in the absence of all outside eyes, he began to step off the cobblestone walkway and onto the artificial grass bedded beneath the tombstones.

He wasn't sure whether or not this moment he was actually feeling "at peace" with the world around him. He wasn't sure even what to think of this moment. It was a first of moments in his book, something which a couple months ago he would've never imagined himself to be in. But here he was, standing on artificial grass hundreds of feet in the air between skyscrapers, feeling a rain shower above patter him and the tombstone sitting at peace before his feet.

It wasn't as "glorious" compared to what Fox would've imagined the old man deserved for saving Corneria on several chaotic occasions. But at least it was something. Something simple. Dad would've approved. He wasn't the type who'd appreciate the idea of having a fifty foot golden statue carved out and placed at the highest point of the planet in his honor. Something simple: his name carved upon a silver plaque stapled to a small marble stone sitting half buried in the graveyard's soil. Disregarding the dozens of different flower breeds tucked all around it, keeping its sides warm, its overall size and position was no more glorious than the dozens that sat at its flanks, those belonging to Cornerian citizens long passed.

What would have struck anybody else as peculiar, after they entered the sanctuary, was the presence of the other dead patrons. The civilian sanctuaries had always been considerably less "zealous" than the military sites. It wasn't too surprising for Fox to see James McCloud as this sanctuary's newest name. He would've always called himself a civilian, even in the presence of military men, and it wasn't just him being a gloated, independent one-man army. It was just another fact that came along with the reality of flying into war while wearing a standalone uniform. Pepper made the right call regarding the grave, enough that it gave Fox a little peace as he stood watching it. "Silent as the grave," per se.

Funny how it didn't strike him as "surprising" that the general did everything right. People like Pepper and Peppy, and even that Venomian spy, Virgil, had known his father a thousand times better than he did. The fact alone caused him to silently stare at the man's name surrounded in fresh flowers, his mind as apathetic as his face. As ironic as it sounded, he felt as if he were in the presence of a stranger. The man's name was just a name in his thoughts now, no longer possessing as big of a godlike zeal. The same zeal that once stole Fox's voice away, along with his self-esteem, whenever the owner of the name walked into a room with him in it.

_Is this what "growing up" feels like?_

Shame how Dad wasn't around to answer that.


	5. Chapter 4

**4 -**

The call came almost immediately after he stepped out of the sanctuary and back into his hovercab. Pepper had hailed him on a private frequency, mentioning it was best he arrive to the meeting zone alone without Peppy and the others.

The location he noted was the name of a night club down in the lower city.

On a map, coincidently enough, it wasn't very far away from the boulevard housing the outlaw saloon Peppy had brought him in to meet Gonzo, the information rat from months ago, who helped them first track down and recruit the camera-shy Slippy Toad. The location spoke for itself: the lower city had always been isolated news-wise from the upper city (they never much cared for anything beyond their neighborhood borders). So chances were, like during his last dive down, most if not everybody would take him for just another vagabond who just so happened to be a fox, and hopefully no assassins-to-be or hidden snipers would take the chance to kill him thanks to the heavy abundance of people traffic.

Still, he kept his gun handy and his eyes on a lookout for black cloaks.

He walked onto a crossroad after landing at a toll station and soon met the tail end of a line of drunken, restless mutts that stretched back for almost fifty feet. It began at the front doors of one particular hot spot that flashed this particular intersection with dramatic zest.

**CERBERUS**_,_ the neon lights read in a hellish red above three doorways flashing a mixture of the colors of a rainbow. Six brutish looking Rotweilers and Pit-bulls stood their posts before the doors as bouncers. One of the bulls appeared to be stonewalling the way for one yelling patron who looked like something of a golden mix between a snake and a lizard—a _skink,_ he remembered what they were called. The guy hissed and snapped his jaws in front of the statuesque bouncer, spewing spit along with his drunken nonsense. In no time two more bouncers entered the scene and—without giving a proper reason in words—grabbed both of the golden scaled reptile's arms and started dragging him away from the club's entrance… and eventually tossing his squirming body effortlessly into the giant dumpster a block down the sidewalk.

When they returned to their posts, there were several _Woo_'s and other forms of cheer from the all-canine waiting line.

_So, Pepper wants to meet inside a club reserved for dogs…_

_ …_

_Smooth, general._

_"__You!"_

A voice suddenly pierced out somewhere towards his right, causing Fox to jump in surprise and turn to see who caused it. Another hound, dressed in the average raggedy coat and trousers of the lower city factory worker, began to approach him fast paced, his eyes focused entirely on him. Feeling his face tense up, Fox began to slowly reach his unseen hand to the back of his belt.

_"__Red!"_ the hound, appearing to be a scar-faced German Shepherd, suddenly spoke brightly past an even brighter expression. _"Sonofabitch!_ You die your fur _orange,_ you crazy cat?"

Seeing the Shepherd smiling grandly like an idiot caused Fox to blink, next to clueless.

"Wassup, little buddy?" the Shepherd joyfully went on while he patted his shoulder and began beckoning away from line. "Look at you! Where'd you get the suit? What you doing in line? C'mon!"

"Sorry, I don't—"

"Hurry up! The dancers will be up soon. Hell if I'm missing that!" The Shepherd forced his frozen legs to start moving in pace with his.

While the Shepherd held his broad arm over his shoulder and led him further away towards the street, Fox slowly began reaching his hand back to touch his pistol hiding beneath his coat.

But almost too suddenly, he glanced at the Shepherd and suddenly felt the look of his face—the scar running down his eye, in particular—spark a small bit of his memory, as if he really had seen the dog before.

"Don't I know you?" he spoke up, feeling his hand rest at his belt, ready to grab his gun in case his mind was only playing tricks on him.

"Of course you know me, Red!" The dog momentarily glanced to their flanks. "We're old friends," he added in a quick murmur. "Keep walking. Don't say anything."

_I knew it_

He went by the Shepherd's lead as they soon changed their course to the alley separating the club from the dark cab garage to the right.

"I'm with CPD," the Shepherd soon spoke once they entered the alley. "General phoned in a favor. He's already inside."

"Wait a minute, I do know you," said Fox, upon getting a better look at the hound's face. "Two months ago, at the saloon. You were one of the guards."

"Good eyes. But if you wouldn't speak that out loud and blow two years of undercover work, I'd appreciate it."

Fox immediately closed his lips shut and turned to look ahead down the dank, wet alley still moist from the recent rain spell. In no time, they reached a lighted doorway up ahead which the Shepherd unlocked with an electronic keycard.

"Don't stop moving once you get inside," said the hound. "Walk straight down towards the darker side of the stage. Pick the booth that isn't taken, sit down, flick on the lamp, and wait. _He_ will find _you._ Again, don't stop or security might get a fix on you and throw you out."

"Right. Thanks."

"When you're done, come back the way you came and I'll escort you to a cab station further down the street."

"I already have a cab."

"And if by chance you also have a shadow watching your tail right now they'll probably have it wired to explode the moment you turn the key." The Shepherd spared a moment to check if the coast was clear before opening the door and giving him leeway. "Apparently this meeting of yours falls within the _Top Secret and Deadly_ cabinet."

"So I've figured." He began to step past the Shepherd and through the doorway. "Thanks."

"Good luck."

* * *

The darkness of the hallway eventually leveled out with the arrival of flashing blue and red lights accompanied by the concussive booms of spastic techno music.

His eardrums began to vibrate and his eyes began to blink once strobes started to paint him all over. Following the Shepherd's advice, he didn't allow the opening display of underground party madness stop him dead in his tracks with shock and awe. He continued walking speedily but not too speedily that he attracted one of the nearby bouncers.

The establishment was jam packed with a multi-breed mob soaking under the passing strobes and fake electrodes. Most were males, from what he could see, all crowding and cheering at the foot of the glowing grand stage up front. Close to a dozen erotic dancers strolled and danced about the lighted surface while sporting tight, bizarre foreign outfits that must've been designed to make a dog's tail want to waggle.

Even more bizarre, all the dancers were not even canid.

_Peppy would like it here,_ he thought as he watched the flexible white-furred bunny girls bend their slender bodies in ridiculous ways with their long ears flapping across their backsides.

There were tables lined up along the flanks of the main floor. The floor itself began from the big circular bar down the stairs and ended twenty feet further in at the beginning of the stage. Both corners beside the stage appeared dark, but the tables on the left looked crowded and completely filled. The right side appeared to be darkened without many table lamps switched on. Without thinking twice he continued his way past the mob and towards what must've been the "darker" corner of the club.

People continued to bump into him as he tried squeezing his way past their joggling bodies. Passing the silvery, strobe-lit bar he crossed through a temporary gap through the main floor. Several hounds seemed to "howl" once one of rabbit dancers wagged her puffball tail in the direction of the crowd. One muscle-bulging Pitt-bull suddenly began to hurl up some glowing liquid on the floor just several feet from where Fox tried to stay inconspicuous. One skinny mutt closer to the action on stage attempted to reach forward with a bundle of bills wrapped around his overly desperate paws, which one of the lean-bodied rabbits strangely claimed with the toes of one of her bare feet, then bent her leg backwards until her toes were nearly touching the back of her silky white scalp, and finished by picking the bills from her toes with her front teeth. The entire display caused the crowd to cheer and whistle even harder. Fox couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach.

He made it past the main floor and crossed the short sound walls blocking off the mob from the reserved tables. The first seated a brotherhood of snappy-dressed hounds who puffed cigars and drank from crystal glasses, all the while being tended to by private dancers – they strangely resembled classic gangsters Fox had seen in the movies at the upper city cinemas. The following tables housed more colorful patron couples with flashy, silky, almost "futuristic" clothes that occasionally shined brighter from the passing strobes. They drank and laughed idiotically at jokes Fox didn't waste time trying to figure out. Soon, however, he came upon a circular table with two cushioned benches that was surprisingly… vacant.

Not wasting time by looking around to see if he'd been followed by the Shepherd's rumored "shadow," he slipped by the opening between the sound walls and took a seat upon one of the red cushions covering the bench facing away from the madness behind. He hoped it would help conceal his face.

"Oh, yes-yes, it is time for me to go," a familiar calm, upper-class voice suddenly came through the techno music from close behind him, just after he flicked on the table's lamp. But something sounded weird about it. Turning around, Fox immediately spotted the general himself – yet it took him a moment to make sure it _was_ the general, with the lack of a medal-studded uniform and (what instantly stupefied Fox's mind to the point he nearly laughed) his chosen company.

Instead of laugh, he just smiled at the sight of the old war hound stepping gradually past the adoring hands of a rabbit dancing couple with a glowing blue drink in his hand.

_"__Yes, yes,_ this old hound requires a breather. Thank you, girls." Pepper, who was giving a saggy, almost tired "old-dog" smile, steadily stepped away from the dancers who tried to sweet talk him out of leaving them behind. "Perhaps another time. Sometime soon. _Adieu."_

With a simple casual lower-city getup rather than a uniform, the general appeared like just another go-easy old timer spending his days of retirement in style. The thought of it, like before, made Fox want to laugh.

"Hello, my boy," said the general, calmly but enthusiastically, sounding winded from his last trek across the party floor. "Tis amazing how easy it is for these droopy old eyes to capture the hearts and minds of millions… as well as the occasional dancer, or two."

Fox broke into a chuckle as the general steadily dropped himself with a sigh onto the opposite bench across the table and relaxed his back against the cushion.

"I remember," the general began after setting down his strange glowing drink, "when I was just a lieutenant—freshly commissioned out of the space academy, tall and proud to finally wear the uniform—my friends and I would come to spend shore-leave here, in this same building." He waved towards the stage. "That was years before the Confederation Pact was signed and allowed immigrants to set up residence in Corneria's major cities. I remember how they played something called _jazz_ back then."

Fox chuckled again while Pepper took a sip from his drink. "Times are a changin, general."

"It's been months since we've last talked freely, Fox," the general finally welcomed him, smiling peacefully despite given the echoes of techno and over-eager whistles bouncing from the walls. "How have you been?"

"A lot's happened, sir." Seeing Pepper's old, friendly face made him want to tell the whole story from beginning to end, but frankly, he didn't even know where to start. "More than I wish to tell."

"Longest two months of your life, no doubt."

"Longer." He allowed himself to sit at ease and look around to the stage of dancing bunnies. "Hard to believe Dad spent a lifetime of this."

The thought came to him as he watched the club and he wondered how so many people were still up this late at night (almost four in the morning, last time he checked). But then he remembered the family who had been at the sanctuary paying respects to Dad's grave, how Virgil spoke of the recent invasion making it hard for everyone in the world to sleep.

_Me, included_

"You know, your father and I had shared a few drinks together here," the general added upon noticing his wandering eyes drifting from the stage onto the people flow. "The good old days, it would seem."

"I just got done paying him a visit."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm dealing with it." Fox turned his head back, acknowledging the general with unblinking eyes and a stone face. "Now I'm just thinking about tomorrow."

"Well, I suppose I can't argue with that." Pepper took another sip of his drink. "James was the same way. Always straight to business. Urgent matters are only a piece of the daily pie."

"I got the feeling this last-minute meeting was something more than _urgent_ after I got past the waiting line outside." Fox nudged his head towards where he first came in from the backdoor. "With a little help."

"I do apologize for the discretionary theatrics, but this sort of meeting must be kept confidential to the best of our abilities." Pepper slowly grew a barely noticeable, but devious looking grin that Fox would've thought impossible for the hound's flabby features. "Otherwise, you would be speaking with an old, unemployed hound, no more a general."

Fox leaned forward, as if hearing his cue. "So, what's the job?"

Pepper sat back and reached into his jacket and pulled out a flat, paper sheet-sized holoscreen which he sat upon the table in front of him.

"Two weeks ago," he began, professionally, "one of our deep space operations units came under attack during a secret exchange with an outside information source. Four of the five operatives were killed. The fifth managed to escape and rendezvous with our forces on Fortuna where he's currently in critical condition. In the latest reports, the operative claimed he had come in possession of construction plans dubbed _Project X,_ a possible schematic of a device we're currently led to believe to be an enemy super-weapon."

Fox brought up the holo-screen after Pepper slid it towards his end. Looking at the screen, it appeared to be the report originally sent out by the operative, as well as a random file containing diagrams labeled with a foreign alphabet—Venom's alphabet, he quickly recognized.

"Approximately three hours ago we intercepted a transmission from the planet's orbit belonging to a known Venomian signal," Pepper continued to recite the report aloud. "Our intelligence sector deciphered it and discovered it was attempting to transmit the coordinates of the facility holding the operative to a location beyond confederation borders."

"Do you think Venom's preparing for another attack?"

The general took in a reluctant deep breath and allowed it to pass back out of his nostrils. "The possibility exists," he answered while looking to the space by his side. "Shortly after intercepting the signal, we lost our connection with the facility's interstellar communications. Orbital satellite images denied any hostile presence on the ground around the installation, and according to all other outposts on the planet the facility's bio-dome appears to be intact, stating the interstellar com relay to be suffering a malfunction perhaps due in part to the recent blizzard."

"Sounds a lot more like sabotage."

"We've dismissed the possibility of an attack to all the outposts using the general frequency. A message which whatever made this enemy signal should be able to intercept."

Fox felt his eyes blink. "I don't understand. You're ignoring it?"

"The possibility of an attack is more than immanent, Fox. Those of us who know of it are well aware of that." Pepper leaned up from the backrest and propped his arms against the edges of the table. "But we cannot allow whoever is down there transmitting the location of the facility believe he or she or _it_ has been compromised. Otherwise this immanent attack will arrive too fast and too strong for our troop garrison to prepare a solid defense, and our odds at retrieving the operative and these plans will be dropped to zero."

Fox still felt confused by the apparent reasoning behind this secret meeting. "So you want my team to slip in, quietly, and pick up the operative and his data without alerting a rapid response from Venom." He shrugged. "Don't you have Special Forces who can take care of something like this?"

"Of course. I could have them deployed and on Fortuna in thirty-six hours. _But…"_

"But?"

"This is an isolated event," Pepper explained. "If I was to deploy a team of commandos to Fortuna, I would need to consult with the general staff concerning an imminent shadow attack on Fortuna, the same I would have to explain the possible existence of an enemy super weapon under construction somewhere in Lylat which could possibly threaten the very security of our home planet. I hate to think in such reckless terms, but we just don't have the goddamn luxury of time on our hands to go through with this bureaucratic nonsense, which is why I need an immediate solution, _now."_

Fox sat the holo-screen down onto the table and allowed himself to sit back, folding his arms to appear more "business" oriented. "So you basically need _us_ to get this done for you, quietly, no strings attached…"

"What I _need_ is for a combat-ready unit under the command of somebody who isn't affiliated with the military to retrieve the objectives and get them both back to me, personally. Once the operative and the enemy construction plans are safe on _this_ planet, then I can break the dam over this river of bureaucracy and consult with the general staff on how to proceed."

Fox kept his arms folded for another moment, trying to shuffle through the bundles of information the general just unloaded over him. But it was useless. Half of it he understood, the other half seemed to had mystically slipped back out of his ears and fade into the limelight of the club.

"Get groundside," Pepper began to summarize, "retrieve the data and the operative, get them both off that planet and back here, ASAP, and I will compensate you and your team _handsomely."_

Fox finally lowered his arms and rested them at his lap. "Who was it who first handed you guys the plans?"

"An independent inquirer who surprisingly passed it over to us for free. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"We suspect he once held ties with the Venomians and had high level access to their classified undertakings. Shadow in the dark. I believe you're acquainted with the type by now."

"A spy, eh?"

"You don't seem too surprised."

"Not really, no."

Fox gave a glance to the general's eyes and immediately found himself in a silent staring contest beyond his consent.

"Fox," Peppy began to speak as he started to appear even more serious, "I'm going to make the reality of this meeting perfectly clear. This isn't some old army dog briefing his troops for an upcoming battle, nor is it some cane-waving school professor assigning his students a book report. This is a business transaction where your say will determine whether or not you commit yourself and your team to a written contract, one which if at any point you violate will be considered a capital offense against the confederation. If you have any sort of doubt or believe you're not up for the task, than by all means, I'd advise you to decline now, and walk away. It's no dishonor if you do. Not for you."

Fox felt himself gradually frown and his eyes look down to his lap. Both of his hands were limp and his arms looked like noodles beneath his coat sleeves. Briefly flexing the fingers of his right hand he looked back up to exchange an easy grin, soon reaching forward to shake the war dog's hand.

* * *

The rain had started up again, this time coming down with a stronger sense of purpose.

The Shepherd was there awaiting his return, as promised, smoking a cigarette while under the cover of a black umbrella at the entrance to the boulevard. The dauntless and unrelenting line into the club had dispersed with most of its inside population taking their leaves into the coming dawn. Small droves crossed the opening at the alleyway's end and temporarily through Fox's tiring gaze, the hazy street lights illuminating the rain around them, the rain itself blocking off the sound of their shoes pattering over sulky black puddles.

"Red," the Shepherd acknowledged above the hisses and patters, his long, black snout grinning from the shadow of the umbrella. "How were those dancers?"

"Not what I expected." Fox glanced back to his rear down the remainder of the alley, for a minute sensing something odd passing his sensitive nose. "What's up with this weather, anyhow?"

"The world's still busy licking her wounds."

Fox descended the stairway from the back door and met the old, uneven asphalt. His scalp instantly became as sleek as velvet while his suit turned blue-black from rainwater. Looking ahead, the Shepherd took his time with every draw from the cigarette, not bothering to acknowledge the passing crowd to his left, or even Fox to his right. Something was keeping Fox uneasy. The hound no longer looked paranoid or professional, but rather carefree.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just wanted to stick around long enough to say sorry, McCloud," the hound randomly claimed. "General wasn't the first to call in a favor."

Fox instantly frowned, confused, as the Shepherd disposed his smoke with a flick of his claw and turned to his left to instantly disappear into the boulevard traffic.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his spine that made him think he'd just been shot in the back. No, he hadn't been shot, but the pain caused him to drop lifelessly to his knees, his chest bending so low he could've bit off the tip of his own tail. Then there was a blast, one not much of a stranger to his ears but louder than any he'd ever witnessed. It barreled up behind him from somewhere deeper within the alley, and rumbled his ear drums with a scorching hot projectile cutting down the tubular core of its wake.

The gunshot missed him and rammed into a random bystander who unfortunately stepped into its path while passing by the alley's opening ahead. Whoever the poor bastard was, he was dead before he knew it, and with shadowy death ramming into the eyes and ears of everybody near, the people-traffic gradually exploded into panic.

This time Fox wasn't waiting for an invisible sniper to save his head from being blown into bloody bits. Whipping out his pistol, he twisted sharply while on his knees and aimed it down the long alleyway. The shooter was there, barely visible, standing like a black silhouette surrounded by a luminous mist, pock-a-dotted by raindrops. Whatever it was it didn't spare the chance to fire a second shot. It lunged its body to the side and disappeared around the adjacent corner, just as Fox finally managed to pull the trigger and cap a hole into the brick wall bordering its retreat.

He barked a curse and turned his head back to the boulevard, checking to see if that double agent Shepherd was coming around to confirm the job was finished. Nah, screw that. He must've been some sort of spent pawn piece on the chessboard, that shadow shooter being the queen.

He wasted no more time standing frozen on his knees and leapt into an immediate pursuit. His gun waddled in his soaked hands while rain continued to toy with his sight. The moment he stopped on the original spot of the shooter, he turned to the left, just to witness what unbelievably took him for a solid wall.

_That's impossible…_

But his reflexes suddenly clicked on when a small black dot had passed by the right corner of his eye. Further down the alleyway, the shadowy hitman crossed from the left and down into the right of the second fork. Fox didn't think. Instead of follow, he turned to his right and jumped into the adjacent alley. He sprinted across the puddles and erupted small geysers of dirty moisture across his pant legs. He pulled up his gun just as he swooped around the left corner, eyes opened wide and glazed, and fortunately, the shooter was there… unfortunately firing another killing shot in his direction.

The blast tore away at the bricks inches away and sent crusty fragments into his eyes, causing him to bark in pain. He blindly fired his gun in the shooter's direction, praying the shots would miraculously land on target. But when he wiped his eyes clean, there was nothing. Just the rain and the drops dripping down the fur around his eyes.

_I hate getting wet,_ the thought somehow managed to slip into his head past the traffic of adrenaline. He glared up and watched the rooftops under a hazy barrage of rain, imagining this assassin to be able to spider-climb up walls similar to the last one that tried to kill him.

"I've had enough of this crap," he yelled out, rage building up under his hide and within his grip around his gun. "Enough with the games! Come out and–"

A buzz suddenly came out of nowhere, so loud it made Fox think a giant wasp had done a kamikaze through his ear drum. What started out as a buzz eventually changed to a screech, so strong that it caused him to shriek while his gun slipped from his grip. His paws latched overtop each lobe and pressed down with a painful curse, every cell in his brain burning from something that couldn't have been natural.

It was now screaming into his ears and was followed by the hand of the assassin itself wrapping blade-like fingers around his neck. An iron grip caused Fox to bite his tongue and gurgle out a throat full of air. He was dangling—_dangling_ two feet up in the air with his back grinding against the wall behind. An ear-popping pressure began to make his cranium want to blow the coop and explode out his ears and nostrils. Blood was boiling up under his eyes as the mind-numbing screech continued to play hopscotch with his consciousness and sucker his stomach into hurling up a five-star dinner entree.

_"__Rain, rain… go away…" _A voice so electronically distorted it could've been a cyber version of Death itself was humming past the blacked out lips of the assassin.

Fox watched the creature's shadowy gaze below with what was easily labeled fear, a cold touch of a demon tickling his heart and making the world around feel controlled by a nightmare. But fear soon bled its way down from his organs and gathered itself at the soles of his hanging feet. He could no longer feel the rain nor could he see down the opposite alleyway ahead. His gurgles eventually grew limp and the last bit of the precious air still cooked up inside him started to leave.

_"__Don't come back any other da–"_

The last piece of the twisted lullaby bumped into the bang of another pistol. Not the same bang. A bolt of light tore through just inches away, cutting deep into Fox's shoulder after doing some sort of damage to the shadow assassin. The killer's voice rumbled through with more psychedelic distortion and eventually dropped into a feral scream. Solid ground welcomed Fox's feet, then his tail, and finally his buttocks. The puddle beneath dispersed in a spatter of droplets that slapped his face and ruined his suit even more.

A horrible cough threw itself out his throbbing throat, along with desperate gasps of air. The sounds of heavy leather boots slapping into a sprint echoed to his right where the assassin took flight, all the while a new player had just arrived after a hard march down the adjacent alleyway… an angry, cartoonish blue and red face damp from the rain, all surrounding two dagger eyes.

_"__Aw,_ did that _hurt?"_ The bird fired two more gung-ho blasts with his pistol into the sky after arriving to the intersection. "You alright, Pussycat?"

"Falco, get him!" Fox struggled past a suffocated tongue.

Falco took aim with his gun towards the opposing alley, but after a short-lived moment, his sharp eyes scanning down his sights, he lifted up and brought the gun to rest at his side.

_"__What are you—_don't let him get away!"

"Use your freaking wits, McCloud. We're rats chasing after a cat in this maze, and who knows whether or not he's a lone wolf. Even lone wolves got helping hands."

Fox grinded his teeth together, shutting his eyes tighter as he tried furiously to regain his breath and composure.

_Stupid bird's actually right, for once._

Fox reached out and the bird pulled him to his feet. He coughed again once he involuntarily hissed at the sting in his shoulder, blood staining his jacket where Falco's lousy aim had left behind a good cut. His shaky fingers squeezed the back of Falco's soaked dress blazer and held tight as they both started to rush quickly down Falco's old path.

There was suddenly a third pair of boots slapping puddles, but this pair came from around the next corner. Fox flinched at the same time the second newcomer made a quick entrance. It was the double-agent Shepherd, gun in hand, but almost comically and totally surprised to see Fox still breathing.

There was yet another instant surprise when another gunshot exploded so close by, and Fox saw the flash erupt from Falco's raised arm. The Shepherd's head threw itself back upon catching a bolt of light right between the eyes. He was dead on the ground before Fox could manage to realize it past his vibrating mind.

"Man, you don't know squat about the streets, you know that?" Falco lowered his gun, too nonchalant to even acknowledging the fresh kill with eye contact. _"Never_ trust a cop who doesn't show you his badge."

Fox groaned. His head was still buzzing from the assassin's distorted shriek attack to feel shocked or even willing enough to put the entire story into words. He retightened his grip on Falco's jacket, and the two of them started a steady pace towards the end of the alley labyrinth and back to the main street.

_I need to get off this planet,_ was the one thing echoing into Fox's thoughts, even louder than the clatter of rain.


	6. Chapter 5

**5 -**

"You said you rendezvoused at a club?" said Peppy. "It wouldn't happen to have been the _Cerberus,_ would it?"

"Yeah, that's the one." Fox shrugged, innocently. "Why?"

"The only times Pepper gives a briefing in that pit is when the contract's a bona fide shot in the dark."

He shrugged again. "What makes you so sure?"

"It's where he gave us the briefing for your dad's last mission." The hare's brow lowered onto one eye and raised high above the other.

The suite was glowing from lamp light. The world outside was grey and under another bombardment by an early morning rain spell. The sound of droplets slapping against the tower continued to echo in as the glass of the window transformed the view outside into a morphed dream sequence.

"Peppy, this isn't some goddamn conspiracy Pepper's running to get us all killed, alright?" Fox spoke while leaning forward against the kitchen counter. "It's a simple errand. Get the operative, get him back here, get paid. _Simple._ What's so difficult about it?"

"Did I forget to mention how _Daddy_ didn't say _Yes_ to every single contract that hound coughed up in front of him?"

"It's only the second contract that's been coughed up since we first started."

"Since _you_ started—don't get me going about how many blood-stained slips of paper I've got stuffed inside my desk. It doesn't matter. This one's got _Bad business _written all over it. You're jumping head first into an op with barely a clue of what to expect."

"So we'll be extra quiet."

"Fox…"

"It's a _black op, _Peppy, we're not supposed to know what to expect."

"Whether you like it or not, the general's treating you like an expendable asset." The hare continued to watch him with apathy while sitting upon one of the stools beside the counter. "I hate to burst the bubble around this perfect little world of yours, but he's _always _treated us that way. He tried to use your father, and now he's trying to use you. Between us and a Cornerian fighter squadron, he'd send us into the meat grinder first just to give the jarheads a clearer path to sail through."

Fox slowly folded his arms. "That's just the nature of this line of work, remember?" His eyes glared at Peppy. "Or did those two bottles of _Longfoot_ kick that bit out of your ears?"

The hare opened his mouth to talk back, but quickly changed his expression from apathy to a "That wasn't called for" sort of look.

"You don't like any of this, stay behind. I _don't_ care, and I don't have the luxury of wasting time trying to convince you to change your mind." He quickly glared to where both Slippy and Falco had been standing like gargoyles for the past five minutes. "Any more complaints?"

_"__Mmmm—_nope," Slippy answered, lightly, while rubbing his head, still working through his amateur hangover. "Sounds simple enough. I mean, I know that nothing's ever _simple_ in itself, but how wrong could it get?"

Fox then turned to Falco, keeping his expression on target with the present without bringing recent history back to the table. "Well?"

The bird openly rolled his eyes and released a deep, dramatic sigh. "Guess I can make one more run with you idiots, as long as it stays simple and you pay up afterwards."

"Nothing's ever simple, man," said Slippy.

"You've seen too many movies, Chick-lick."

"Then it's settled." Fox pushed his hands up from the counter. "We're going to Fortuna. Get up to the Great Fox and be ready for castoff in one hour."

Slippy broke from his drowsy slump and enthusiastically gave a wide-smiled salute. "Yes, _commandah."_

The duo made their exit out the door with Slippy chatting up a storm behind Falco's silent, aggravated wake. When the door closed behind them, Fox turned to see Peppy still seated casually on the kitchen stool, looking at him, calmly, and without a trace of grudge present along his features.

"It's your outfit, kid," he eventually broke his silence. "And you know I'm in."

"Peppy, I'm sorry." Fox allowed himself to drop the _commandah_ act. "I know there's a risk involved, but… how long would it be till we get another job? We could be stuck here for months, and I…"

His words ran dry and his neck grew tense when suddenly the shadowy silhouette of the alleyway shooter arose into his mind bellowing that distorted sadistic voice past an ear-bleeding screech.

_Rain, rain… go away…_

"Fox," Peppy spoke up, all-knowingly, as if something in his face revealed a hidden piece of the back-story. "What else happened down there? I can see that cut on your shoulder."

Fox instinctively raised his hand to cover the gun wound, the cut starting to bleed again past the bandages from below his white T-shirt. "It's nothing."

Peppy dropped his chin while keeping his eyes on him. "Nothing?"

_"__Nothing."_

"Doesn't look like _nothing."_

"Is there an echo in here? When I say nothing, I mean _nothing." _He glared for a moment but forced his features to loosen up. He shut his eyes and allowed the air in his lungs to drift freely past his nose. "I just… I'd prefer to get off this planet as soon as possible, alright?"

"It's alright, kid. I hear ya."

"And how long until we finally get another chance at work? Might as well take what Pepper can give us for the time being."

"You're kidding, right?" The hare burst into a chuckle, the smell of alcohol still drifting away past his front buck teeth. "With cold war at an all-time high, people will be lining up with bags of gold for savvy entrepreneurs like us."

"What about this one? What do you really think?"

"Like I said before, you can't keep jumping into the rabbit hole with your eyes closed. You're bound to step on a snake sooner or later."

Peppy gradually rose from his chair, grunting when he put a little too much pressure on his bad leg, which just recently healed from the ambush two months ago and no longer required a brace. He soon folded his arms and his face began to shift back to its original apathy, mentioning he was deep in thought.

"But this whole thing about a secret weapon and an entire military base going dark…" The hare pinched some of the whiskers around his snout, putting off a studious, doubtful manifestation. "I don't know. Just keep your eyes open. This one isn't making my tail wanna waggle."

"Mine either." Fox walked out from behind the counter to meet him. "But we survived a global invasion and managed to save my home town in the process. Can't get much more hectic than that, right?"

"Good grief…" Peppy pitifully rolled his head, groaning. "Why is it always gotta be _war_ that finally pulls you idiot kids outta Lala-land?"

* * *

Out in the star-speckled abyss there was a horizon unlike any other. Like a ship sailing the sea for a new world beyond, the _Great Fox_—a colossal swan of elegance and temper—sliced its path through the blackness, the dozen worlds of Lylat sitting upon nothingness so far away.

Past the white plating of her hull, tucked close towards her metallic organs, the bulkheads rumbled and rumbled with each sway that bounced from Falco's ears. This sort of rumbling was something he'd gotten used to fairly quick back when he was barely a teenager.

Those "solid ground" days. The Ancients were probably still laughing at him and the rest of the flightless. For Falco, it took time and a little patience to get used to, at first—the day-in-day-out mechanized rumblings of a spacecraft. But in time, with repetition after repetition, flight after flight, space flight grew on him as something as normal as the feel of his talons gripping the dead weight of a trustworthy pistol, his eyes refusing to blink past the flash from gunfire, the ecstatic rush of pulling the trigger and relishing in the sparkling blood over a fresh…

_Wait a minute—WHAT? _his conscious intervened. _Damn it all… I was stuck in that crazy farm too long_

"Is orange your favorite color in jumpsuits?" a voice he recognized to be the hare's arrived from down the hall. "Or is there a part of your mind that's still locked up back in Four Blades?"

He glanced over to the old man's direction, then back down to his work table, taking a moment to attach one of the dozen different shards of metal to the dissected frame of his pistol. Something had been scratching at his mind and keeping him awake, from back when he shot that crooked cop in the Calidame Lowers. Something about the way that hound fell after catching the bolt between his eyes was… _different _from what he was used to seeing. Surely it had to have been the gun's fault. And so he'd spent the night scrubbing every spec of it to make sure the next one to fall wouldn't fall so…

_Oh, for the love of Ancients! Quit thinking like a sociopath, you dramatic jackass!_

"Considering nothing else on this junker fits me," he finally spoke back, carelessly, while pulling up a loose sleeve along his thick bicep. "And maybe I just still feel a little like a prisoner, you ever wonder that?"

The hare stepped over and eventually stopped just beside the table, but Falco didn't care to ask for a reason.

"You know, something's been bothering me lately," said Peppy, deceivingly casual-like. Some of the grey hairs along his snout were reflecting the lime green of the local lighting.

"That so?" Falco raised up the dissected barrel towards the light to examine the chamber. "You should go see the ship shrink. _Oh,_ right. You _are_ the ship shrink. Well, I guess you're just screwed then, long-ears."

The silence that followed started to tap at his ears but Falco tried to ignore it by detaching the barrel and starting the cleaning process from scratch, hoping to kill more time.

Eventually he decided to play the hare's game. "Alright, I'll bite. What's been pecking at your skull, old man?"

"It's just that this certain squawker aboard this ship is willing to tag along just so long as the pay meets his opportunistic standards, and so I gotta wonder…"

Falco secretly watched from the corner of his eye as the hare leaned his shoulder against the wall at his left flank.

"What happens when somebody crosses his path with a better offer?" said Peppy. "Key word: _when,_ not _if—_and what happens when that somebody is looking to get rid of everybody else aboard this ship?"

Falco felt his eyes blink on impulse but kept them glued on his feathery fingers below as they scrubbed a squeegee through the barrel.

"I think that gun's clean enough for you to give me a straight answer, boy."

Like a snap of a finger, he dropped the pieces in his hand onto the table and turned his head sharply to look Peppy in the eye. "Why is it that everyone in this junker is a frigging journalist when it comes to snooping inside my personal circle, eh?"

"Why did your last gang turn on you? What'd you do betray them?"

"Let me guess – I gotta tell you cus it could affect the safety of the rest of the crew."

"If it could, for your sake, you better tell me now."

He spat air past his beak while wobbling over his boney bare feet. "How about instead I tell you that good ol saying _It's none of your damn business_ and you hop-hop back the way you came, _Thumper,_ and leave me the hell alone. I'll flutter off into the sunset once this little errand is done and you won't have to put up with me ever again."

"Uh-huh." The hare's expression reflected Falco's sarcasm like a mirror. _"After one last run_ with us _idiots,_ right?"

Falco immediately turned and took a sharp step to meet the hare face to face, but Peppy didn't give a blink or a flinch of any kind, watching his display with fearless, almost "pitying" eyes.

"You think I'm gonna throw you to the wolves?"

"Well, there _is_ a ship load of motives, Falco." The hare's brow rose, and the look of his eyes along with the tone of his voice deceivingly suggested he was informally co-opting a future mutiny. "What kind of a gold-tooth wouldn't be… _tempted _for winning the bounty of a lifetime, hmm?"

_"__Hmm,_ well, then how about for a crafty old rodent like you I broadcast a special little newsflash?"

He bent his head several inches closer that the point of his beak was nearly touching the hare's nose.

_"__They…_ betrayed… _me,"_ Falco spoke in a low hiss. "They sold me out. You think they're the only ones out to pluck every feather off my back? _Bounty of a lifetime? _I've got a price so big on _my_ head that the lucky bounty hunter who finally manages to put me down's gonna be richer than the Kaiser of Katina."

"Wow. That's impressive."

The boring tenor in the hare's voice caused Falco to hiss past his beak while he began to pace side to side.

"No, really," Peppy reassured, but his tone didn't fit the envelope. "Pretty sure my head was worth around the same number back when I was your age."

"Up yours!" he yelled once his temper finally slipped off the roof. "You have no idea what kind of heat I'm living in right now!"

"Falco, we're willing protect you so long as you _cooperate."_

He immediately stopped his pacing and came to a standstill, glaring at Peppy, refusing to look weak in front of the geezer.

"You honestly think you have it bad?" said the hare, his voice no longer sarcastic. "I've known men who went forty _years_ of constantly being followed by government spies and being woken up at night by professional assassins trying to slip knives to their throats. I went through the same life, but the difference between them and me is a matter of black and white – I'm still alive and they're not. You know why?"

Falco felt himself finally break eye contact and drift away to stand towards the opposite wall, the effects of relentless stress beginning to grow a migraine beneath his skull. "Being a part of something is the reason how I got into this mess."

"It's the people you choose to watch your back which determines whether you live or die, Falco," Peppy explained in that mellow, poetic voice Falco could barely stand to hear. "I'd expect nothing less of betrayal from teaming up with a soulless pack of wolves."

Falco continued to stare blindly into the wall, as if wishing by some miracle another random explosion could blow a hole in his cell between him and freedom… if there really was such a thing.

"Falco, look at me."

He breathed out a shallow sigh with a roll of his eyes before gradually turning around to be met with Peppy stepping forward to meet him in another facedown.

"Are you willing to cooperate with us?"

"Yup."

"Are you gonna to make us regret bringing you aboard?"

"Nope."

"Follow Fox's command?"

"As long as he pays me," he answered past the emotionless muscles in his face.

Peppy continued to stare for another long moment, but eventually Falco felt the hare's hand pat the side of his shoulder and he turned around to leave, apparently satisfied with the answers.

"Oh, and one last thing."

Peppy immediately turned back and once again Falco was met by those inquisitive icy blue eyes of his, now glaring at him.

_"__If_ you do anything that puts the rest of this team at risk," said the old hare, "anything at all… I'll tear your throat open and rip out your gizzard, and if by some miracle you're still squawking, I'll burn what's left of you. Clear enough?"

"Well, _Pops."_ Falco stood straighter while putting off his usual swag. "I'll be sure to cover my neck with a metal brace after I'm done leading you chumps to the front of a firing line."

What could have been labeled as a grin came to Peppy's stone-like lips. Taking the chance to leave, Falco walked back to the table and reclaimed the pieces of his pistol, then began marching away for the hangar.

"You know, I was once pretty friendly with a pink-furred cat who could make better death threats in her sleep," he yelled back after he felt a laugh pop up from his lungs. _"Hop-hop_ back into your hole, Thumper!"


	7. Chapter 6

**6 -**

Past the glow of the sun, the space ahead seemed dead, littered with old bones. They were flying into the heart of a prehistoric graveyard of titans, heavy, colossal bulks of rock memorializing dead planets passed.

The scale of these floating continents made his eyes constantly blink out of focus and his breaths come through at a timid pace. Fox wiped his eyes, trying to wear off the fatigue settling further back into his sockets, cursing the thought of sleep especially at a time like this.

_Sleep…_

_How long has it been since I shut my eyes?_

_ …_

_I'm in trouble_

"Everything's looking fine up here, Pep, apart from the asteroids." He shook his head and blinked several times while flicking the switches to his scanners, bringing up a series of astro-geographical readings of the inner field. "How're you guys doing back there?"

_"__It's a tight squeeze, but GF's making progress," _the hare spoke from the video feed._ "As long as Rob doesn't fall asleep at the wheel, we should be fine."_

_ "__Scanners indicate category-five asteroids blocking current course at approximately two hundred kilometers from current position." _Rob's metallic bucket head became visible in the secondary video screen while his robotic monotone buzzed into the radio frequency._ "Great Fox's turbo lasers should possess the correct magnitude of firepower to create an adequate opening for safe passage."_

_"__How big's a category-five, anyhow?"_ Slippy spoke up.

_"__Big enough to be a small moon,"_ said Peppy. _"Thought you'd know this stuff being you lived here, Slippy."_

_ "__I didn't _live_ in an asteroid field. I was stuck back at the Outposts inside a metal hangar day in and day out."_

"Guess we'll just have to take our chances, no detours around. We're already behind schedule. Just keep it simple when we reach the inner field, Rob. Take it slow and steady while we scout out an easy path. Pep, Slip – keep a close watch on his flanks. Last thing we need is some idiot pirate gang picking a fight while there's giant rocks floating everywhere." Fox turned his head to acknowledge his wingman flying close to his left past the glass. "No offense, Birdbrain."

_"__None taken, Pussycat."_

_"__Alright, you two," _said Peppy. _"Keep your focus off the chatter and on the controls. It's like swimming in an ocean – just read the currents and adjust as necessary."_

_"__I hate getting wet,"_ said Falco.

"That makes two of us."

With Falco at his wing the two of them flew past the first family of rocks, slow and steady. Fox kept a weathered eye on every empty space between the clusters. As if sleep-deprivation wasn't enough of a distraction, he could still hear ringing in his ears. That alleyway shooter's shrieking still scratched at his ear drums with the cruel disposition of a relentless mosquito.

_"__Fox, give me a private channel." _Falco's voice suddenly spoke into an isolated frequency, away from the ears of the others. Upon passing another cluster of rocks and seeing an adequate open road ahead, Fox flicked a switch beside the radio controls, shutting out both Peppy and Slippy's video-feeds.

"Private channel. What is it?"

_"__How's that shoulder healing?"_

"You fixing to apologize for your horrible aim, Cockeye?"

_"__Just worried you might not have the arm strength to hand over my money when this is all over."_

He exhaled a sigh to make his growing annoyance clear. "You expecting a tip for saving my hide back there? Try asking politely."

_"__Hey, I don't like sarcasm, especially while I'm knee-deep in a dilemma where I might not get paid thanks to my _boss_ being a freaking assassin magnet."_

"You don't request a private channel to bitch about transactions. You got a business problem you say it to my face when we're back on the ship."

The bird's features didn't flicker once in the video screen, but the volatile attitude living in his dagger eyes was undoubtedly growing to the point it was unstable.

"You wanna be a _merc for mercs,_ that's fine with me." Fox looked up from the video screen and back on to the field. "Just have a little faith in our current contract and we'll both get what we've come for. _Money."_

_"__I don't remember signing any dotted line."_

"A contract signed by a man's word. Who do you think you're working for? The army?"

_"__Nah, _that _would be simple." _The bird's blue and crimson feathered complexion appeared to grow even smugger than its natural look. _"Even more simple than working for a general who likes going behind his own army's back by making secret deals with double-dealing freelancers, especially lousy ones who like posing as undercover cops."_

"Pepper didn't know he was being double-dealed. And just what the hell were you doing back in that alleyway yourself? How do I know I'm not being double-dealed right now?"

_"__Just have a little faith," _Falco spoke with a roll of his eyes. _"And what if Pepper did know? How would you know? You gonna ask him about it? Or are you gonna keep quiet like a good little soldier?"_

Fox felt his lips purse together as he tried to dismiss everything coming from the ex-pirate's hard lips. But he couldn't help but wonder about what Falco was trying to get at.

_"__Think for a minute… What about this little taxi mission he's got us doing for him? What if there's more to this base falling dark than just bad weather? And don't give me that _black ops_ crap. I don't like…"_

The bird's voice vanished after Fox flicked back the radio switch to its original position. The soothing _hum _of the engine at his back started to relax the tense nerves dancing around his skull. But it wasn't long until he noticed a share of mayhem erupting at the corner of his eye. Falco's mute lips were clapping together in some random blabber below fearsome eyes, and occasionally he reached down and slapped his feathery hand over the screen causing his features to joggle.

After a long reluctant moment, Fox gritted his teeth and finally returned the bird's voice to the stage. "You can gobble all you want, but I'm not going to—"

_"…__UP!"_ The word came through so loud that his own voice stopped dead.

"What?"

_"__Look UP, you idiot!"_

Fox blinked and turned his gaze several inches up to just catch glimpse of light reflecting a once blackened surface of rock. He didn't give a sound, not a curse or a shriek—if he did, he wouldn't have known. Throwing his full weight forward onto the controls, he forced the Arwing into a powerful dive. The crying alarm from the panel screamed that an asteroid was moving in at high speed to tackle him head-on.

Asteroids don't fly that fast, the thought managed to barrel into his head as the colossal rock missed its target. That was a comet.

"What in the holy hell was that?"

_"__Don't know, but here comes more!"_

Fox felt his extremities suddenly go cold, and up above within the crowded space, a family of more locals had been transformed into homicidal comets. Two of the bigger ones tapped one another's side, slightly from the look of it, but the force that followed was the equivalent of a bomb going off. The ricochet caused a tidal wave of fragments to brush out in all directions.

_Alright, so I'm an assassin magnet…_

_ …__but an _asteroid_ magnet?_

_"__Watch your left!"_

Falco's warning came a second too close to disaster. A series of smaller chunks—each the size of clawball stadiums, but still _smaller_ compared to their siblings—flew in front of his path from the left, and erupted explosions of dust and rock upon landing into another cluster that meant to ram them from the right. Fox was next to speechless. They _were _trying to hit him.

_"Sonofa…_ We're getting out here! Move deeper into the field."

_"__WHAT?"_

"Just do it!"

_"__Gah, you're paying me extra for this, you psychopath!"_

The Arwings threw themselves forward in a powerful boost of exhaust just as several more rocks started tackling their fellows, more shockwaves creating formations of bedazzling metallic particles, bundled together like massive schools of little fish.

_"__Just move deeper into the field—are you _insane?" Falco's beak clapped through the frequency.

"It's gotta be a like a hurricane, like that purple eye storm from before, remember?"

_"__Oh, don't even get me started again on that _eye of the storm_ crap."_

"It's _fact,_ you boneheaded—"

_"__Watch out!"_

Fox gritted his teeth as they veered around a couple of "category-fives" that resembled celestial cave bears enraged over being awoken from cosmic hibernation. Their rough surfaces _woosh_ed by the cockpit glass so close he could easily depict the true scale of their size—_small moons,_ as Peppy put it from before.

_"__Right there—right there! Here it comes!"_

Another cat-five slammed its way into the one passing their flank, and as if it were scientifically impossible—as if science was plausible at all in this situation—Fox felt a violent, quick vibration through his cockpit following a collision between two continents of rock. The explosion possessed the force of a hundred nuclear bombs detonating in an unconfined space. The very sight should've caused his eyes to flinch, but he just watched in total awe with each eyeball threatening to leap from his sockets and splatter over the front console.

_"__Watch it, watch it, WATCH IT!"_

"Shut up,_ shut up!_ I see them!"

Avoiding the hundreds of titanic shards throwing themselves free of the previous doomsday explosion, they arrived into a meadow buried within the field, one that stretched for perhaps a hundred miles in all directions. There was a spectacle at the center which appeared nothing less than unnatural - there was a massive formation of rocks that shaped itself into a feudal form... the shape of a gigantic castle. At the "gateway" of the horrendous molding of rock, the center appeared to possess an artificial exterior… a ship.

_Is that really a ship?_

But as if to prove the point that it _was_ this man-made clunker that had been governing the nation of killer rocks, two once dormant hunks that floated steadily within the space several miles below it were suddenly caught in a beam. The beam originated from what must've been a ship of sorts—a tractor beam, which suddenly sent out a pulse through its wake, and the rocks that were suddenly freed from its grasp flew forward into a charge.

"Holy—"

_"__Crap! Get out of the way!"_

They buzzed relatively easily around the two inanimate juggernauts, but it was only during the second they flew by when their scales—like the cat-fives from before—were gloriously enormous. It was only then that Fox noticed the alien president of asteroids suddenly ignite its engines, and turned to directly meet them "face-to-face".

_"__What is that thing?"_

"Why are you asking me?"

_"__Fox, what's going on?" _Someone other Falco finally entered the channel.

"Peppy, we got some kind of UFO chucking asteroids at us. Grab Slippy and get over here, now!"

_"__That's a negative. Something's causing the field to go haywire around your position. There's too much debris for us to get through without getting smashed. Sorry, but you two'll have to kill this thing on your own."_

_ "__On our… Are you kidding me?"_

"Just relax," said Fox. "This guy doesn't look bulletproof. Slippy, can you analyze his systems from where you are?"

_"__Yeeaaa—no." _The toad's face in the screen looked relatively reluctant to make a sound. _"Something's causing all scanners to come through blurry. Gotta be some sort of jammer coming from his ship. Sooo… if you could somehow disable it I might be able to—"_

"Alright-alright, we get the picture. Falco, move in and draw his attention. I'm going in for a closer—"

_"__I cannot allow you to go any further," _a voice interrupted, belonging to nobody he recognized. "You_ were the one to disturb my slumber…"_

_"__Terrific,"_ Falco blurted out. _"The damn thing can speak."_

_"__Oh, the thing can do much _more_ than merely speak…"_

It was this moment that Fox suddenly felt a violent jolt slam into his cockpit, making him think he'd finally love-tapped one of the asteroids. But he realized his systems were suddenly frozen, and the space outside was absolutely dormant. A green beam revealed itself connecting him with the strange alien craft, originating from what strangely resembled a giant metal shield covering the front of its jack-shaped hull.

"Oh, crap." Fox started pressing harder onto the throttle, but to no avail. "Crap. Damn. Falco? _Falco, _he's got me!"

_"__Let's see what you're made of, shall we?"_

He suddenly barked when suddenly the force of the tractor beam began to expand… _inside _the cockpit. The blue glow covered every piece of the interior, including Fox's own body. His stomach suddenly started to churn and what must've been his intestines were starting to shift beneath his belly. The very sensation made him feel like puking, but quickly turned into sheer pain as his skin suddenly started to… _stretch._

"Oh… _GOD!" _He coughed out as he convulsed around and squeezed the handles of the controls. "This thing's trying to turn me inside out!"

_"__What?" _he heard Slippy's voice chime in._ "That's impossible—tractor beams can only move metals!"_

"This isn't an ordinary tractor…" He lurched when another one of his organs suddenly shifted. _"GAH, _make it _stop! Make it stop! Please!"_

_"__Eat this, you freak!"_

The flash of a missile flew overhead the Arwing and screamed into the hull of the dormant vessel. There was an eruption of a small but violent explosion. The beam suddenly joggled and vanished. Fox felt a tsunami wave of relief flood over his body. He gasped violently when he realized that his lungs had been squeezed shut by the beam's telekinetic power.

_"__I underestimated you!" _the voice of the asteroid king hummed, psychotically. _"And so cry the trumpets of my nation, and beat the drums of my legions…"_

A new video feed came to life in the secondary screen, and of all the creatures the galaxy had to offer…

_"__Figures," _Falco spoke aloud, beating his thought process to the punch line. _"It just _had_ to be another psycho monkey."_

_"__Let the games be…" _The face of the monkey, adorned in an awkward arrangement of head ornaments that looked like old engine parts, morphed in its gaunt, big-mouthed shape. It turned into something comparable to _taken aback._ _"I… beg your pardon, a _what?"

_ "__Why does it always gotta be _monkeys _who show up out of nowhere with weapons of mass destruction?"_ Falco flipped his arms up into the air of his cockpit, more melodramatic than ever. _"Where's _my_ giant doomsday robot? Where's my comet-throwing UFO, eh? Where's my _due,_ man. C'mon…"_

_ "__Just what in the blazing stars is he talking about?" _The asteroid king's voice sounded temporarily sane all the while his skinny, bearded features sitting below his strange metal "crown" became temporarily irrelevant. _"I'm an _ape,_ not some bumbling, disgusting, feces-throwing peasant with a tail."_

"Falco." Fox flicked his weapon systems to the ready, bringing up the green HUD over his cockpit glass. "Open fire."

_"__I mean, _seriously!_ Do we at least have some kind death ray that turns people into gold statues, or… Wait, what?"_

_"__FIRE!"_

Light temporarily filled the darkness within the asteroid castle's massive courtyard. Twin missiles screamed forth and clapped the strange shield that had been responsible for emitting the ape's tractor beam.

_"__Filthy degenerates!"_ The asteroid king's video feed bounced with static. _"Let the games _truly_ begin!"_

Several chunks were suddenly pulled free from the king's castle like crumbs off a giant cookie. They were catapulted forward from the beam, causing Fox and Falco to scatter to opposite sides.

Fox was making a pass along the hull of the king's ship when suddenly… there was the green glow that before had caused his inner properties to do back flips.

_"__Aha!"_ The asteroid king giggled, maniacally. _"Now, this time, hold _still_ to receive a proper blessing from your most gracious host!"_

Looking quickly towards the king's ship, only perhaps a hundred feet away, six _gemlike _figurines arose from the surface of the shield projecting the tractor beam, each shining like spotlights. The implication of spectacle was so obvious that Slippy would've probably laughed if Fox had bothered to ask him for a data analysis.

"Falco—_Falco!_ Aim for the gems glowing on the shield! Shoot the gems!"

_"__I deliver thee onto the land of the silent dea—"_

There was a _bang. _The last bit of the king's words were replaced by a shriek when a powerful red blast covered the entire celestial spectrum for a brief second, with a force that mercilessly caused the rather weakly foundations of the crooked rock castle nearby to split down the center. Each halves were blown away to the outlying field, and with a crunching sound echoing into the real-time audio amplifier, the green luminescence vanished with the shattered glowing gems along the king's shield. In no time, the entire shield was severed from the ship's hull.

The force of the noble bomb almost instantly washed over his fighter, and Fox barked when sparks suddenly jumped from his mainframe and spattered over his eyes.

_"__Mother—"_ he yelled past the seismic boom. "What in the—!"

_"__What in the what?"_ Falco's voice spat a chuckle into the frequency._ "You getting hormonal or something?"_

"Yeah, hilarious, you idiot! You about shot a bomb up my ass!"

_"__Aw, sorry, darling. I'll buy you dinner afterwards to make it up."_

_I'm gonna murder that bird…_

_"__My seal!"_ the king's voice squealed. _"My PALACE! Defilers! Degenerates! Scum… you will BURN!"_

_"__Enough!"_ yelled Fox, rage swelling his veins. "You think space is your natural habitat, your_ highness?_ Falco-tear the wings off this vulture."

_"__With pleasure."_

* * *

The blackness was lit up in quick flashes. The colossal spectators sitting off miles to the side were temporarily revealed in the general absence of light.

Missiles flung and bolts of light screamed out in all directions. There was a series of blasts that were followed by small displays of flames, and hisses and curses that echoed across the radio frequency. In just a minute's time, the chaotic rumblings of explosions and laser fire echoed a final gasp, and then… silence.

Fox felt himself take a breath while forcing his finger to release the trigger. There was a sudden shower of sparks that emitted from the core of the asteroid king's hull, which was followed by a panicky burst of green from Falco's ship hovering along the target's opposite flank.

_"__Is he dead?"_ the bird asked, looking a bit twitchy in his features from a classic case of trigger-happiness.

"I don't know. Let's ask."

Fox ignited his engines and brought the Arwing a few steps closer towards what remained of the shield-wielding asteroid manipulator. The six corners that once shaped the vessel like a giant jack had been severed, along with whatever propulsion system it had to rely on. The hull alone continued to bleed sparks from its empty sockets, no longer mobile by the look of the full spectacle.

"Uh…" Fox cleared his throat. "Hey, buddy, you still alive in there?"

Silence. A few more sparks popped from the severed limbs.

_"__Let me try." _Falco leaned further towards his video. _"Hey… hey, monkey lord, wake up!"_

_ "__Don't ever _dare_ call me such again, malefactor!"_ The secondary video feed re-birthed the insanity of the asteroid king. _"You warthog-faced buffoon!"_

_"__Did… he just call me a warthog?"_

"What is your problem?" All the pressure in Fox's trigger finger instantly vanished. "What the hell are you doing in an asteroid field, and where the hell did you get that ship?"

The king's voice grumbled. _"Found…"_

"You _found _it? Where? In Meteo?"

_"__Given…"_

"Wait-given? By who?"

Another bout of silence on the king's part.

"You tell me what I want to know, or I'll—"

_"__I strangled the very GODS of the cosmos!"_ the king blurted out._ "There! THERE! See around you… dead gods passed… the gods watch on after death... slain by mwah… delivered by THEE!"_

Fox felt his shoulders slump, along with the muscles in his face. "I don't even know why I bothered."

_"__Can I please blow up this fruit cup, now?"_

"Yeah, yeah. Just take it easy with the bombs this time, or I'll…"

The spectacle of the floating carcass of the ship—suddenly reduced to an inanimate object like one of the asteroids—even more suddenly caused Fox's imagination to take a dive down the deep end.

_A king reduced to a peasant..._

"On second thought…" A hidden chuckle leapt up from his lungs. "Hey, _Faly,_ what do you think? Should we settle for a draw?"

_"__What's that supposed to—oh, actually, _yeeeaaah…" The bird popped into a chuckle of his own._ "Yeah, you might be onto something. A couple centuries floating in space oughta give the psycho monkey a reality check, or… whatever."_

_"__I am not a _monkey!"

_ "__Fair thee well, meh monkey lord."_

_"__Come back and finish me, you brigands!"_ The emperor of Meteo was fuming from within his little video square. _"BRIGANDS!"_

"Sorry to jet, your malevolent benevolence, but I'm in a hurry." Fox shrugged. "What, with the way the galaxy is these days? Oh, but you wouldn't care that much about us common folk, right?"

_"__I am _beyond_ what is common!"_

"I figured as much."

_"__No matter how long it takes, I will have your head on a pike!"_

"Have fun waiting in line, then."Fox raised his fingers to the screen and began fluttering them in a final farewell. _"Psycho monkey."_

_"__You son of a—!"_

Fox severed the transmission and allowed himself to sit back, exhaling out a deep pocket of relief. But he cringed when some of his insides came to his attention, feeling… _wrinkled._

_"__Did we just free billions of enslaved space rocks from an evil monkey dictator?"_ Falco's face was glowing with a righteous grin silently screaming served justice.

Fox coughed up a giggle. "Consider that a practice run for the next psycho monkey we gotta put down."

_"__Can't say I ain't looking forward to it."_

"What? Vaporizing Andross, or me paying up before another assassin jumps the corner?"

_"__Both, I guess."_ The blue feathered raptor stretched his arms up inside his cockpit and folded them behind his head. _"For now, I'll live up the moment. This'll all make a good story to tell my chicks if I ever have any."_

"You did good, Faly."

_"__Faly…" _A sputter of a chuckle popped out from his beak. _"That's cute, Foxy."_

"C'mon. Let's get back to the others." He tapped his palm over the video feed, watching the static gradually vanish and Peppy and Slippy's faces reappear. "Peppy, we're en route back to you now. Bogey's been scrapped."

_"__Roger that. Good work, you two."_

* * *

The trek back to the others dragged along with the tedious thrusts and turns of their fighters. Each basic movement proved a tiresome gamble with the surrounding field of celestial boulders now swirling around like five maelstroms suddenly exploding into a hundred intersecting currents. There was an occasional _bang_ following the collisions of asteroids from afar.

_"__Just thinking out loud," _said Falco, suddenly, _"but maybe it's a good thing we ran into that psycho back there. What, with a ship that can control asteroids and little bit of imagination…"_

"Is this one of those _for the greater good_ arguments?" Fox rolled his eyes before turning them back to watch closely on his course ahead. "I doubt to think you honestly give a real shit."

Falco spat out a chuckle that didn't sound legitimately humored. _"So I'm back to being a black-hearted con, now, am I?"_

"Considering it took me waving a few bills towards your nose to finally get you onboard for doing something noble."

_"__Right, and like you weren't flying back into that global invasion for just good karma. Don't go lying to yourself by playing the white knight card."_

"I was doing the right thing." Fox glared down to the video feed. "How the hell am I lying to myself?"

_"__Why are you flying this mission right now?"_

"For the right reasons."

_"__Oh, c'mon. You can dodge the question as much as you want."_ The soft corner of Falco's beak twisted into a grin. _"You're a pirate whether you like it not."_

"Screw you."

_"__What's there to be ashamed of, Pussycat? It's just the real world catching up to your fairy-tale, that's all."_

"I'm about five seconds away from cutting you out of the frequency."

_"__Yeah, and next you'll be ordering Pops to tie me up to the mast."_ Falco's head slowly shook to side to side. _"You wanna know how to survive the longest out here, rich boy?"_

"Advice from a poor boy?_ Sure, _I'll hear you out."

_"__Wipe your colors."_ Falco's head leaned in further._ "Look out only for yourself… and you shoot dead every yellow bastard who comes your way and dares call you a friend."_

Fox felt his eyes momentarily lose focus and exchange a look at the video. "There's something wrong with you, man."

Falco spat out another obnoxious chuckle before turning his eyes away.

"What happened to you?"

Falco laughed. _"What, you think I'm a victim?"_

"I think you're squawking shit you don't honestly believe."

_"__Well, then welcome to the jungle, Pussycat. Where the weak are meat, the strong are the ones who eat, and there's no such thing as being in between."_

Fox felt a silent sigh drift past his nostrils while his eyes wanted to roll in another circle. But as the Arwing flew relatively easily through the path now becoming clearer of asteroids, he soon realized he was stuck in a trance. His eyes were no longer focused on either Falco's picture down below or even on the path ahead. He was looking up instead of down, unknowingly focused on something that presented itself as nothing.

He gradually lessoned the throttle, eventually bringing the Arwing to a lifeless float across open space. There was a fluttery, almost dangerous feeling in his chest which had begun tickling his senses like a feather trying to make him sneeze.

Not long after he dropped in speed, Falco, who had been obliviously maintaining his course, finally noticed his absence and came to a gradual hover.

_"__Aw, did I hurt your feelings, numb nuts?"_

Whatever was bringing this new shiver to his spine was closing in. Fox couldn't help but remain frozen, eyes locked on the starry heavens painted above.

A sparkle suddenly struck his attention like a falling angel. It wasn't long until it grew close enough that he quickly realized its true identity.

"Falco, evade."

_"__Or are you just gonna… Wait, what?"_

"Evade!"

It was useless. The incoming projectile suddenly screamed in like a lightning bolt and made contact. It exploded in a shockwave of electricity atop the bird's right wing, causing it to spin out of control.

_"__What in the—!"_ Falco's face joggled in the footage and then suddenly vanished into static.

"Do you copy?" Fox immediately felt his blood scream in panic. "Falco, answer me!"

_"__EMP,"_ the bird's voice crackled through the static, the image of his face barely coming through the video. _"I can't… all systems…"_

Past the static distracting his ears, a new figure took rise from above in the path of the missile. It was a ship, no doubt, one covered in a metallic dark maroon shell that hid it well within black space. The light emitting from its engines was a vibrant blue that matched the Arwing's own, but the shape resembled something of an oval with wings that were as thin as paper. Then Fox realized they weren't wings at all, rather some kind of contained energy shaped like wings. They had suddenly begun to glow bright blue.

_Blue…_ It was the same shade of the Arwing's sapphiran turbo lasers.

_"__New contact," _Peppy's voice arrived back into the frequency. _"Small signature. Barely showing up on radar. Fox, you got a fix?"_

The fighter had suddenly made a sharp turn, changing targets. It began flying full speed in a direct charge.

_"__Talk to me, Fox. What's going on out there?"_

_ "__Dammit,"_ he hissed when another light suddenly shot out from the alien craft. The missile barreled forward and flew inches from his underbelly, just as he pulled up and pushed the throttle to full.

* * *

_"__Fox, I need an update."_

"Kinda busy here, Pep!"

An explosion rocked the space at his left flank when another missile detonated into an orb of electricity. Several bolts crawled over the tips of his wings and rolled quickly around his hull. Some of the systems in the mainframe joggled, but luckily the shockwave vanished and allowed the main interface to quickly revive itself from the pulse.

_"__Fox, you gotta talk to me," _said Peppy. _"Who is it? What is it? Venom? Pirates?"_

"I don't know."

_ "__What kind of ship is it?"_

"I don't _know."_

_"__Focus, Fox. What are the armaments?"_

"Peppy, I am focused on one thing right now, and that's _not getting shot!"_

As if ammunition wasn't a factor with this ghost fighter, missiles continued to pour out from whatever gun mechanisms that were attached across its hull. Fox twirled and spun the fighter in the most evasive maneuvers he's every tried outside a simulator. The outlying constellations circled along with the celestial gravesites of Meteo. Several of the asteroids passed across his cockpit glass, causing him to pull harder on the controls, stretching the Arwing's flexibility to its ultimate limit. He soared around the gliding titans, his overall course painting a pretzel into the surrounding space. The ghost in his wake was almost perfectly outlining his every move.

He continued to glance from the holographic imaging of his rearview to the windows beside his chair, tempted to rely on his own eyes to keep in track with the wildcat clapping its jaws at his tail. The missile alert alarm continued to ring every other second. With every crazy turn or whatever the maneuver, the ghost had him beat in a lock.

He hissed a curse when another posse of missiles ran through his path. The Arwing twisted upside down, and with a quick boost of the engine, nearly performed a perpendicular turn downwards. The ghost mimicked him like a feral cat keeping step-in-step with a laser pointer.

"Sonofa_bitch_ can fly." A groan mixed together with aggravation and fury rumbled his swollen throat. "Oh, I'm gonna enjoy decorating my room with whatever's left of you, _asshole."_

_"__Fox, if you can't take this guy, just lead him back to Great Fox."_

_"__Hell_ to the no—this one's mine."

There was a couple of category-fives slowly approaching from both the top and the bottom of his view, preparing to embrace one another like gods in romance. The very spectacle had a passive effect that followed with a sensation of excitement and fear – the spectacle of a titanic bomb seconds away from detonation.

_Now's your chance, Ace_

Flooring the boost he set his course directly for the point of collision. The surfaces of rock gradually moved closer and closer, their speed increasing with the more distance he eliminated between the colossuses and the Arwing. In no time, the collision was met with a godly display of physical destruction. The asteroids butted heads, sending off a shockwave that flew for miles in all directions, passing over his fighter and causing a rumble of powerful seismic forces. The space all across his fighter was consumed in a shower of debris. His reflexes were suddenly catapulted into overdrive. He spun around the larger rocks and splashed into the smaller fragments, each nub slapping his cockpit glass like hail on a windshield.

His engines boosted up from a temporarily lapse in speed and broke past into the temporary open space above. With a blessing from Lady Luck, he came through relatively unscathed, with the blue engine glow of the ghost itself flashing not a hundred yards in front of his nose.

He wanted to break into a laugh of glee, but over towards the right of his cockpit he could see the magnitude of the asteroid collision tearing crevasses into the surface of rock. Shards were catapulted out from the basins and shot into the surrounding space. He kept the engines punched to full, as did the ghost, as they both focused their efforts in outrunning the wave of destruction rendering the adjacent asteroid into a million islands. Soon they both rocketed past the top of the axis and out of reach of the doomsday consuming their wakes.

"Holy hell…" He took a quick breath to steady his shaking hands. "Alright, I'm on him."

The ghost had begun to perform its own evasion. The sharpness of the turns immediately dissolved every shake in his body as Fox awoke from shock and punched the controls to keep on target.

Flipping the switch along the firing controls, the HUD arose in the front glass with the target reticule already centered on the missile-throwing banshee.

_My turn_

Green exploded from his guns and flew to the ghost like starving bees to honey. The flashes crossed over its holographic set of wings and caused the pilot to wobble the craft and drop it into even sharper turns.

"Like bees to honey, _sucker."_

His rapid fire bursts continued to pummel through the wake until several shots met their mark. But something caused Fox's eyes to blink. A flash emitting from the hull that wasn't fire exhuming from fresh wounds. The look of it resembled a mirror reflecting ultraviolet rays. The green emissions that slapped its hide were suddenly sent into a ricochet, reflecting away like actual beams of light off a mirror surface.

"This guy's sporting some sort of deflection shield." His reflexes continued to keep the Arwing glued to the ghost fighter's wake as they began to approach another large cluster of asteroids. "Standard shots won't do a thing. Switching to sapphire."

_"__Just don't overheat it, Fox. Those stones are worth a fortune."_

_My life's worth more_

Flipping a covered lighted switch next to his right handlebar, the electronic interface at the front of the glass turned from lime green to sapphire blue. At both sides between the hull and the two blue G-diffuse capsules, a luminous, almost mystical glow began to exert from the gun barrels.

"C'mon, baby…" His grip tightened on the controls. "Show em your real teeth."

Within a couple seconds, the ghost fighter crossed into the blue crosshairs with a high-pitched _beep_ filling the cockpit space.

_I have you now…_

His thumb stamped in the trigger. An instant frenzy of blue light exploded forward in a rapid stream. Like two giant hyperactive machine guns, the sapphirian lasers fired full auto and began striking the ghost fighter with instant hell. The craft joggled and veered down towards the approaching asteroids. Fox kept right at his tail, refusing to let up the massive blue volley. The sounds of the guns spoke of absolute power and the bright flashes of its light blinded his peripheral vision, forcing his eyes to rely solely on tunnel vision. The ghost fighter flew close between two of the asteroids below and joggled some more when several bursts pummeled its ultraviolet shield. The blue shots that missed their marks exploded into the rocks further on causing several hefty chunks to crumble off of the asteroid's structure. The force was unrelenting, and Fox felt his grip and his tail beneath him begin to grow numb from relentless vibrations across the craft. But he refused to let up. His eyes continued to remain stuck on the ghost while his teeth grinded together now that his adrenaline was kicking into over-drive.

It was after the ghost fighter managed to avoid another rapid stream by pulling up just before meeting the next asteroid head-on, something beyond Fox's imagination happened. The alien craft's engines suddenly switched off, and like magic it managed to pull a zero-gravity back flip while scaling the tall surface of the rock without changing course. Its front was now directly staring him down while its sleek ass was acting as the nose.

When suddenly its holographic guns on its sides began to glow the same shade of blue as his own guns, the tension in Fox's body quickly dropped to the point he could've wetted himself without knowing.

An instant blue firestorm as powerful as the Arwing's screamed out in a direct path for his craft. Fox felt his trigger finger go numb and his hands pull up on the controls. The Arwing barreled head first into the ghost fighter and barely managed to avoid a direct collision. Fox felt the entire craft violently thrash when the underbelly slammed into the nose of the ghost, causing the lights in the cockpit to joggle and erupt several sparks. Applying a quick boost to the engines, he saved the Arwing from spinning out of control and didn't waste time to dart away around the adjacent rock. A red light shined out beside his radar warning the ghost was riding up on his tail.

_Gah, not again…_

But what met him was something he couldn't immediately fathom. A blue shower began flying all around him, some bursts missing him by dozens of yards. The accuracy of the ghost fighter was suddenly reduced down to an almost laughable level.

"Who the heck is this guy?"

_"__Fox, your systems looked like they joggled a bit," _Peppy spoke up. _"You alright?"_

"We sorta clapped hands back there." He turned his head quickly to see out the rear glass above the engine, seeing the ghost continue to desperately fire at him with those blue lasers. "I think I damaged some of his systems. He's firing like a blind man right now."

_"__Falco's regained control of his ship but his radio's still partially fried. See if you can shake that thing off and lose it in the field."_

"Right." After barrel rolling around a closer burst, he accelerated the Arwing down to where another cluster of a hundred asteroids floated as a separate neighborhood from the cluster to his rear. The ghost fighter kept on his tail, now firing quick precision bursts, forcing Fox to maneuver left and right with barrel rolls.

_Peppy's favorite trick_

"Come and get me!" he yelled as he brought the fighter's wings down close to the hull and accelerated full speed into the field, past a dozen smaller rocks and barely sliding through two larger ones that slowly collided into another epic explosion, cutting off his wake.

Glancing behind, the ghost fighter was momentarily cut off from behind the quake of the collision. Taking his chance, he banked hard to the right where one sleeping titan softly drifted with the flow while surrounded by its little sisters. It was shaped like a giant hollow potato riddled in holes. Without thinking twice, he let off on the accelerator and slowly steered for one of the caverns within its dark body. With a short putter of the engines, he slipped backwards into the darkness inside and immediately shut off his engines once he managed to land on partially flat ground.

Shutting down all power to everything except life support and his radio, he peered past the glass to the field outside, waiting to see a trace of life arise from around the corner.

The ghost soon appeared, flying slowly forward like a hawk scanning the meadow for its missing lunch.

"This guy can't just be another raider," Fox spoke lightly into the radio as he watched the ghost like a mouse hiding from a cat. "That ship has sapphirian installed to its guns."

_"__What?" _Peppy sounded confused, maybe so much he was shocked._ "That's impossible. The Arwing's the only ship in the galaxy that can use those stones."_

"Yeah, well, we just got done scrapping a ship with a tractor beam that can turn people inside out—I think it's fair to say this whole day's been impossible."

_"__Alright, hold tight, kid, just stay out of his sight. Falco should be there any minute. This guy won't be able to take you both."_

"Yeah, right. I'll just keep hiding inside this hole like a nut-less mouse."

_"__Fox, just stay low and don't do anything stupid. Please?"_

_Please…_

_Oh, now I _have_ to stay put or else I'll upset the old bunny_

The ghost outside continued to fly and search around the asteroids, perhaps just couple miles directly ahead. Fox felt his breaths come through louder, his adrenaline drifting off while the two halves of his conscious continued to duel for control of his head, one wanting to take action while the other was inclined to actually listen to Peppy's tactical appraisal for a change.

The devil on his right shoulder was already starting to tempt him with ideas, all the while Fox felt himself begin to ignore the angel praying on his left.

In no time, several interesting thoughts came to view.

_Lasers won't work against that shield…_

_Too fast to outrun…_

_That last fender-bender seemed to do some damage…_

_ …_

_Hmmm…_

"I'm gonna try something," he spoke aloud, adjusting himself nervously in his seat.

_"__Fox, don't take any chances! Wait for Falco."_

"Too late, I'm going for it."

Peppy's voice continued to object, but Fox ignored him. Reigniting the engines, he brought the Arwing out of the cave and to bear around the asteroid's axis. As if on cue, the prowling ghost vigilante suddenly turned and began an immediate pursuit. The moment he turned the axis and came into direct view of the fighter, laser fire immediately began flying from its holographic wings turning the space around him into a storm of blue light. He accelerated to full speed in a charge, the ghost doing the same. Time flew slow as his hands squeezed the throttle and the air in the cockpit began to sting his glazed eyes. Sweat broke from the fur at his brow and his teeth clenched down hard, combating the classic life-and-death game of chicken.

_Don't take any chances?_

_Funny joke, Pep_

Sound disappeared from his ears just as he and the phantom became nose-and-nose, a gap of perhaps a hundred measly meters standing between them and full on collision. His grip on the throttle instantly tightened to the strength he could've even broken the levers off with a twitch of his arm.

With lightning speed, he extended the collapsible wings of the fighter to a full ninety degrees. Pressing hard on the floor peddles he caused the craft to rotate horizontally forty-five degrees. It began a sideways glide straight into the enemy. Bringing the throttle back to full in the final seconds, he twisted both gears and felt the Arwing begin a rapid, deadly barrel roll.

_Barrel roll solves everything_

The timing, perhaps, couldn't have been better – or worse, he couldn't tell which. A violent force tore through the Arwing causing his shoulders to nearly rip from his harness. But the shock was short, and from what he could tell, he was still alive afterwards and the Arwing was still in one piece… until he looked to his starboard side and noticed sparks emitting like miniature pixies dancing around floating pieces of his own ship. Half the wing had been torn off, and now most of the fusion generated systems were offline, every screen, including his cockpit HUD, as dark as the outside.

"Ah, man… Peppy's gonna kill me for real this time."

The visual of the outside soon recaptured his eyes when several more sparks sputtered up from nearby. He looked around until he suddenly caught glimpse of the ghost fighter from before, now lying inert like a clunk of floating metal, so lonely and small in the endless confines far off from the asteroid cluster. It was definitely damaged and seemed to be relatively dead.

The gamble obviously paid off for Fox. But what about the lunatic piloting that damned thing? Nothing about the alien craft appeared to be too damaged from Fox's viewpoint. The pilot had to have been still alive. Most likely knocked out, or just plain mind-boggled.

"Stupid punk…" He managed to reroute some juice from the Arwing's reserve power to ignite the engines on a low scale. The internal systems clicked on and off and stuttered unstably, but as he inched the throttle up, the fighter began to slowly float over to meet the disabled vessel.

The maroon hull glimmered like the surface of a jewel whenever sparks leapt from the several dents sustained across the area which Fox assumed to be the cockpit. He pulled up close enough that his nose was inches from the hull. The radio was still down and there was no sign of Falco or Great Fox. That devil sitting on his shoulder told him he'd have to take care of this on his own.

Unclipping his harness, he pulled the lever which brought the glass of the cockpit up, revealing the outside space. The G-diffuse field relied on its own independent power source and the invisible sphere covering his ship appeared to be working to nominal proportions. He could still _breathe,_ thank whatever the gods. Before moving on, though, he grabbed the collapsible rifle strung up beside the emergency medical kit. He pulled the strap around his shoulder before taking a nearly weightless stand from his seat, the singularity of the G-diffuse keeping him from floating away.

The open space all around his head momentarily captivated his bare eyes, so endless just the thought of standing in the middle of it made him feel depressingly insignificant on a universal scale. Placing his boot atop the edge of the cockpit, he pointed himself for the ghost fighter, and with one steady push, his body began to float forward.

The flight took him by surprise when he realized the absurdity of what he was doing. One wrong slip and he'd float out into open space, past the G-diffuse field, and then, well… _die._ The thought alone just made the future confrontation with Peppy feel even worse.

_As if one circus act wasn't enough to satisfy…_

When he reached the hull of the ghost fighter, some gravity returned to his form bringing his feet down to rest lightly on the plating, proving the vessel's own G-diffuser was still operational (lucky for him). The ship was fairly smaller in comparison to his own, thirty feet in length rather than the Arwing's forty, and was probably somewhere around the same size in wingspan from what Fox saw before from its holographic projections sprouting from the sides during combat. The Arwing behind him continued to sit dormant, awaiting his return. Stepping slowly across the hull made him feel as if he were walking atop a desolate moon, each step taken reminding him of treading through a bog with mud dragging up to his knees. Steadily, he managed to get himself to the portion of the craft which appeared to be the glass of the cockpit. The heavy black tint made it impossible to see through.

"Open up," he spoke aloud towards glass, suddenly remembering the possibility that the pilot may actually be conscious. His voice came through barely to his own ears in the absence of any real sound barriers.

And then again, even if the guy could hear him, why would he even oblige when Fox had no other way to open the glass himself?

_Wonder if he can even hear me talking?_

_We're in _space, _you know_

Refusing to back down, he fired a quick burst of his rifle on the plating beside the cockpit, hearing only a muffled _thrum_. The lasers left behind just several dark stains across the glossy paintjob.

"Last warning. Open up!"

To his almost speechless surprise, exhaust suddenly fumed from the vents beside the cockpit and the glass appeared to begin to part horizontally and slide into the hull. Steam appeared to barrel out from inside while the majority of it engulfed the entire cockpit. Fox couldn't see a thing apart from several flashing lights, making him believe this really was some sort of UFO from a galaxy far, far away.

"Show me your face," he spoke loudly into the mist with his muffled voice, knowing whoever was inside could hear him. "You've already lost."

There was still only the hiss of blowing air that managed to make it inside his ears. The following silence continued to leave him on the tip of his toes, fingers gripping tighter on the handle of his weapon. Something was alive in there – he could barely hear it breathing under whatever it had to call a tongue.

But it was the moment he first began to make out breathing that life instantly shot out from the smoky confines, taking on the form of a hand gripping a pistol. The sight of the barrel pointing to his head caused Fox to duck just as the pilot's finger pressured the trigger and sent out a silent bolt of red light through space. Swinging his body around, he lunged forward and brought the back end of his rifle down into the smoke, hearing a painful bark erupt from inside just as he felt something slam against his rifle butt.

"Stupid sonofa_bitch!" _he yelled as he stepped angrily into the cockpit, slamming his boot down onto the pilot's foot, causing another muffled shriek of pain from inside. "Try it again! See what happens next!"

He pointed the gun barrel directly forward to where the silhouette of a head began to gradually form. It was still frozen, perhaps out of fear, all the while its breathing continued to come through steadily. Whoever he was, he wasn't that big of a creature, but rather shorter in scale, just a little below Fox's own height. It didn't faze him as odd until the mist had finally begun to wither completely away. He could make out the reflection of bristles. The creature had fur of a colorful shade, perhaps that of some vibrant breed of cat.

It didn't take long until something even more unique caused Fox's mind to go as blank as space and the pressure in his gritted teeth to slowly disappear into nothing. It was the visual of the creature's triangular ears, accompanied by a small, skinny snout above a fluffy white neck. The most dominant and lucid of the colors ironically took him as the most shocking detail he's ever seen outside a mirror.

_Orange_

The mist was finally gone, and in the place of his would-be killer sat another fox, bleeding from the lip and looking at him with the same expression of disbelief.


	8. Chapter 7

**7 -**

Peppy was standing at ease beside the door into the medical bay, fighting back another round of sleep.

The doors of the elevator parted and suddenly Falco stomped into the hall with his bootless chicken feet clapping over the metal plating. Peppy rolled his eyes, folding his arms and waiting until the last second to slowly turn his head to acknowledge his wondrous entrance.

"Where is that scum?" Falco immediately lashed out, not at all to Peppy's surprise. "Tell me where he is so I can bust open his skull!"

"I do hope you're not referring to our commander."

Falco tore out a pistol out from beneath his prison jumpsuit. He budged from a sudden flicker of pain that appeared to erupt the moment his hand made contact with the metal grip. "The only piece of dogshit I'm killing today is the chump who thinks he can walk away after slapping my face with a missile!"

"Just relax. You're starting to sound like a parrot who just got his eggs stolen." Peppy released a sigh. "And what makes you think it's prudent to pull a gun right in front of me?"

_"__Prudent?_ It's not rocket science! It's eye-for-an-eye. He's lucky I don't go in and shove a grenade up his ass!"

"Falco, just shut up," Fox's voice suddenly intervened. "We can hear you through the door."

The clinic door had opened and closed once Fox arrived. The kid's very face was putting off a mind-weary vibe that resembled the downtrodden aftermath of a migraine, the kind Peppy knew well from his younger days working in Four Blades Penitentiary.

"Well, _sorry,_ but you're not the one who keeps swallowing up EMPs like cough drops." The scarlet feathers around the bird's hostile eyes began to flare up when a small, barely noticeable line of electricity flew up from beneath his hide. "I can't even undo my belt buckle to go to the bathroom without getting shocked! All because of that guy you're now treating like a freaking royal!"

From Fox's expression alone, past the shroud of exhaustion, Peppy could see something comparable to confusion. It was deep and truly unmistakable, like the eyes of a man who suddenly witnessed rumination so deep and vivid it caused him to mistake a dream for reality.

"I'm sorry, alright?" Fox apologized (to Peppy's surprise). He began to make his way back towards second deck, figuratively pinning Falco's dumbstruck features atop an imaginary mantle.

"Am I missing something here?" He turned to Peppy with a good portion of his aggravation still gunning for more confrontation. "What the hell just happened?"

"A clue that you need to learn how to shut your gob and keep your grievances to yourself." Peppy turned sharply to meet Falco with a callous stare. "When you open that beak again, think twice before speaking out of line. I suggest you start practicing now, soldier."

The stern spirit in Falco's face seemed to grow dull as it lost a good portion of its fury. He had begun to open his beak to speak again, but fell short of speaking with direct words. He grunted and turned to stomp off towards the elevator where Fox had already long disappeared into.

Peppy gave another sigh as he looked ahead to the opposite wall, ignoring his leave. "Little turd," he grumbled to himself and gave a brief chuckle. "A wonder why I'm still dragging myself into this schoolyard crap."

When the elevator had closed, Peppy turned his eyes to the right and took in the sight of the door into the clinic. Taking an easy step forward, he reached for the door controls, and opened up the dark room from inside to the emerald glow of the hallway.

* * *

Fox took a seat at his desk, unnervingly scratching his neck like a drug addict. Something was causing his entire body to go haywire, as if his conscious was digging back into a long forgotten piece of his brain.

The world suddenly appeared like the complete opposite of what he knew it to be. This entire charade suddenly didn't make any sense. The questions continued to pour from the lips of imaginary demons and into his oversensitive ears, causing his blood to boil.

He shrugged away from his desk surface and reached for the top drawer to his right, opening it and reaching past the pistol and old documents for Rob's cybernetic eye, the little gizmo containing a virtual journal once documented by Dad himself. He soon felt around long enough to find it. Pulling it up to meet his own eyes, he felt his mind drift into an instant stupor.

His thumb hadn't activated the eye yet, but for some reason, just looking into the sparkling red spectacle made him believe he was already witnessing another one of Dad's ruminations. All the answers to everything, including what the hell was going on now, sitting right in front of him, encoded and poetic. Impossible to understand from just a ten second glimpse.

The door suddenly opened behind him. He tossed the eye into the drawer and slammed his free fist hard onto the desk.

"Would it bother you to _knock?"_

"Take it easy, alright?" Falco stepped farther in and made his presence clear.

"What do you want?"

"To find out why you and Pops are keeping me in the dark right now. The hell is the matter with you, anyways?"

Fox didn't bother to turn around, but rather felt content to keep staring at the window before his desk, and occasionally the drawer containing the eye.

"Alright, look…" Falco took another step forward, poking an imaginary stick against Fox's attention. "I know I'm being left out of something here. But I was there and I even took a direct hit from that jerk-off, and now we've just decided to play nice and help nurse a goddamn bounty hunter back to health?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I was _there_ and I saw it."

"You didn't see anything."

Fox could sense the irritation boiling up within the bird's psyche, but surprising enough, the short-tempered raptor managed to keep the feathers on top of his head from catching fire.

Falco took a deep breath. "I just want to know… _what_ in the good name of all that is holy is going on right now. We're sailing into an obvious deathtrap when we get attacked from some vigilante with a chip on his shoulder, and then—"

"It was a mistake," Fox cut him off. "She saw the battle, flew over, assumed we were pirates, so she engaged. It was all just misinterpretation. _Satisfied?"_

Of what explanation that had been thrown at him, one snippet obviously caused Falco to finally flinch. "She?"

* * *

Peppy walked into the room that was dimly lit with luminescence leaking in from the sunlight squeezing past the distant asteroid belt. Surrounding the medical bed at the center was an assortment of machines, all of which were set on standby. From what little he knew already, their guest was just suffering a couple of bruises from Fox's chicken stunt. Not to mention a bloody lip gained from the butt end of a rifle.

_I'll have to have a word with Fox about that bit, later_

She lied silent on the bed with one wrist handcuffed to the frame (Fox's orders, and Peppy couldn't blame him for a little protocol). She appeared to be sleeping under the effects of a sedative, but it wasn't enough to fool him. This particular fox was young, too young to outsmart an old hare like Peppy. Tricks were among the many fortes of his ancestry. The thought of it, accompanying the young fox's efforts, made him chuckle in pity behind a growing grin.

"An old friend of mine used to always say you should never run if you can walk," he spoke, lightly. "Never walk if you can sit. Never sit if you can lie down…"

He noticed the fox's eyes suddenly open up, revealing bright amber irises that sparkled in the breaching sunlight. The thin pupils turned to view Peppy with an unusual amount of curiosity.

"…and never lie down if you can sleep more than a couple minutes," Peppy finished with a growing smirk. "Mind you, cats tend to sleep out a good fraction of their lives. That old friend of mine was a lazy knuckle dragger, I tell ya."

The eyes of the fox sparkled as something came to her thoughts. Her snout parted in a confused display, a portion of her canines visible past her lips. Peppy took the liberty of walking further into the light so he stood at the tail end of the bed, resting his hands in his coat pockets.

"But I did always like that saying," he added.

The young fox was undoubtedly buried deep in her thoughts, shoveling past memories. Soon, her ears flickered and her eyes blinked just as she began to open her mouth.

"I know you," she spoke in a tomboyish voice that was still fairly weak from the wearing sedative.

Peppy felt his brow rise. "Really? I'm not much surprised. It's easy to mistake one hare's face for another."

"Not the face," she answered, studying his eyes. "That voice. I've heard it before. I… I remember…"

Peppy watched as the confusion continued building up into the fox's head, forcing her hand to rise and rub at the effects of the sedative.

"You were only four years old," Peppy answered. "I doubt you remember the name."

The fox looked up, blinking as she attempted break past the painful barrier separating one half of her brain from its partner. But his words obviously sent her spiraling into a lost stupor, bringing her eyes back up to meet his, trying to decipher an answer on her own. She was a pretty little thing through a fox's perspective, but seemed to ignore looks in exchange for whatever grit her childish form could muster. Peppy hadn't seen much of a sign of it so far, but he knew it was there. Along with her steadfast features, she wore a thin white scarf sewn from yarn, its two tails resting above her chest covered by a tattered red T-shirt.

"You had that same look in your eyes," Peppy continued. "The same your mother would always brag about."

The fox forced herself to shake away the stupor and take on a more fortified expression. "I don't like games."

"Neither do I, hon." Peppy began to step towards the window, frowning.

"Peppy," the fox suddenly spoke, enlightened. "Peppy Hare. I do remember you."

Peppy smirked. "It's a smaller galaxy than I thought, Vexa."

* * *

Fox squeezed his shoulder through the half-open doorway. Falco trailed him so close he had to flip his bushy tail to the side as to protect it from the bird's long clawed toes.

"I told you once and you obviously didn't listen," Fox spoke with his patience finally coming to its end. "I told you _twice_ and you insist on making an argument out of it. So I'll tell you a third time, and so help me, if I hear another gobble out of you I'll toss your carcass out the garbage chute. Now, _drop the subject."_

"I'm just trying to make some sense outta this garbage." Falco refused to slow his pace at Fox's side, sounding almost as if he were enjoying all of this. "So you mean that entire ambush, one girl, of all things—strike that—a namby-pamby _feline_ managed to send me spiraling while almost sending you to the ship graveyard and you're expecting me to believe this bull crap?"

"Wrong phylum, dumbass."

"A _fox_ almost sent me spiraling to the morgue."

_"__Beaten by a fox,_ he says." Fox turned to give him a dull look while continuing down the hall. "Did you forget who you're talking to? What am I in all this?"

Falco's expression suddenly formed a smug frown. "Sorry, guess I also mistook you for a pussy…"

Fox immediately came to a halt and turned sharply to glare at him.

_"…__cat,"_ Falco casually finished.

Fox exhaled hard and turned his head back to face his original path. But suddenly, he realized quickly, the path had changed. In fact, two new characters had arrived onto the scene. Peppy, along with the short vigilante herself standing with a military-issued blanket covered around her shoulders.

"A kid?" Falco spoke without control. "It's just a _kid?"_

Fox continued to watch the smaller fox look at him in particular with hesitant eyes that occasionally shifted to where Falco stood petrified like an idiot encased behind an invisible shell. He couldn't help but marvel at the sight of her, despite she couldn't have been no more than fifteen years old, just an overgrown toddler through his eyes. But of all the years of acknowledging awkward stares from hounds back in Calidame, here he finally was making the acquaintance of a fellow member of the species apart from his own father.

The very thought of it, ironically, made him feel out of place.

"Gentlemen, this is Vexa," Peppy introduced. "Vexa Polisatti. She's a friend of the old crew."

Fox continued to stare at the little vixen like an idiot. In the corner of his eye, Falco reacted no differently.

"Vexa, this is the skipper," Peppy continued, "Fox McCloud."

"This is un_believable!"_ Falco suddenly broke out, temperamental, and turned away to begin a thunderous march down the hall. "I want to know where the hell she got her paws on that overpowered piece of _scrap_ down there, then I'm gonna toss it out the launch bay with a bomb strapped to its gut!"

The sound of the elevator doors closing behind the bird's epic exit caused Fox to glance away from his stupid gaze.

"Fox?" Peppy spoke aloud, forcing him to turn back. "It's usually common courtesy for the captain to welcome visitors aboard."

His clueless eyes shifted from Peppy down to the ship's newest "visitor" as she continued to stare at him with amber eyes that almost made him think he was looking at a reflection of his own.

_"__Fox…"_

"Uh…" he forced himself to make a sound, but unfortunately, nothing better came through.

The little fox glanced to her left where Peppy stood by with his arms crossed behind his back, and eventually looked back to meet Fox with the same clueless expression.

"I… Pep?" Fox managed to speak. "Could you… I need to go do… something."

When he could force no more words past his lips, he quickly turned to walk away, heading for the elevator down to engineering, unsure why he was choosing the hangar instead of anywhere else.

_To catch some fresh air?_

_We're in space, stupid_

It was after he disappeared from sight, Peppy had felt a groan rumble up from his throat and he reached out to pat Vexa on the shoulder.

"He grew up with mostly hounds," he explained. "Not used to seeing his race outside a mirror. He'll come around. Just a bit melodramatic, is all."

The fox glanced back to the doors of the elevator Fox left in, than quickly back to exchange a peculiar look with Peppy. "You said his name was… _McCloud?"_

Peppy felt his lips grow fairly soft as he watched the elevator and felt inclined to not look away from the steel doors.

"Yup," he eventually answered, unenthusiastically. "Guess I did."

_Fox is gonna kill me…_

* * *

The echoes of footsteps began to grow louder and louder as they signaled the entrance of yet _another_ visitor.

Slippy lowered his music earphones after giving an empty sigh. He sat up from lying down over the wing of his Arwing and looked ahead to see who was further interrupting the heavy-metal crusade of _Death Fang._

It was Fox this time. He walked around the corner of the cargo tunnel and into the hangar with a pace that could've fooled Slippy that there was another pirate raid going down on the outside. His boots stomped, but unlike the last visitor to Slippy's humble little domain, his overall posture didn't look infuriating, but rather confused.

"Wassup, dude?" he spoke aloud, but began to feel awkward when Fox stopped in front of his particular fighter and started looking around, aimlessly. _"So… _what did I miss?"

"Where'd Falco go?" said Fox, continuing to look around, still aimless.

"A walk." Slippy nudged his head towards the open launch tunnel. "Didn't say where."

Fox quickly turned around and appeared to just figure out that the tunnel door was separated and open space was visible at the very end. He then turned his head to finally acknowledge Slippy relaxing on the Arwing.

"What's he doing?"

"I don't know. Skipping stones, maybe." Slippy brought up his hand and pulled off his cap, scratching a sticky itch along his smooth scalp. "He'll be fine as long as Rob doesn't go rogue and switch off the singularity field."

His eyes soon returned to watch Fox continue to glance around like a lost tourist. The very spectacle would've made him laugh if it wasn't for Fox being the one showing it.

"You alright, man?"

"What?" Fox stopped glancing around and froze his eyes on him. "Yeah-yeah, I'm fine. You?"

"Swell."

"Good, good…" His voice faded away as his attention gradually began to fade away, too.

"This is about that other fox, isn't it?"

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Slip," the red fox suddenly—and almost immediately—spoke a confession. "It's like… like somebody twisted a corkscrew into the back of my head and now they're sucking out my brains through a straw."

"Yummy-yummy." Slippy cracked into a quick chortle. "I mean, no, not really, just making fun of…. I mean, I'm _not_ trying to make fun of, uh… never mind."

"Is this normal?" Fox spoke past Slippy's boggle of words, as if none of it survived past his ears. "Or am I going through… some kind of panic attack… or a seizure. Could it be a seizure? Have you ever had a seizure? Talk to me, Slip. Stop looking at me weird."

"Well, it's…" He suddenly blinked at the last of the fox's rapidly spoken words. "Wait, _what?_ I'm not looking at you weird."

"Why am I acting like this?"

Slippy gradually shrugged his shoulders after regaining his conversational bearings. "It's the first fox you've seen in a long while," he spoke his bleak analysis. "Not surprising that you don't know how else to react apart from—_heeey,_ that reminds me! Maybe you could ask what's-her-face about that little… you know…"

"Huh?"

"You know that thing you, eh, mentioned during the flight to Bangelor, about _frogs…_ and _foxes…" _Slippy crooked his brow trying to bring the memory back into the spotlight. "Something about _delicacies… diets… gourmet recipes?_ Ring any bells?"

"Slippy, what the hell are you talking about?"

He instantly flipped up his arms and allowed them to fall dramatically on his lap. "Nothing," he answered, hopeless for an answer. "Nothing at all."

As if those final words of his somehow flipped the "on" switch for Fox's rationality, the orange fur ball began shaking his head, lowering his eyes, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I probably look as nuts as a hyena blabbering away like this."

_"__Well, _maybe not _that_ nuts," said Slippy. He continued to lean back against the blue G-diffuse capsule while seated atop the fighter's wing. "But I guess I can't blame ya."

Fox obviously caught the jest from his final words and looked up to acknowledge Slippy with a cocky smirk. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Slippy hummed below his long tongue and past his wide, grinning lips. "This girl… What's-her-face."

"Vexa."

_"__Vexa…"_ Slippy couldn't help but grow his grin even wider. "Pretty name for a pretty face…"

"You're kidding me," Fox spoke through a chuckle. "She's just a kid, Slip. Barely old enough to drive a hovercab."

"Not old enough for _you."_ He gradually lifted up his arms and folded them behind his head, confidently. "You forget I'm only twelve years old on the solar scale? She's older than me, I'd bet."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Fox shook his head with an all-knowing grin, but eventually, the all-knowingness about it melted away and soon he looked more doubtful than cunning. "You are only kidding, right?"

Slippy shrugged while staring up to the hangar's ceiling, keeping his grin alive. "Maybe I am… maybe I'm not… maybe I'll ask her down for a drink, open up my secret stash of Lilian brandy… and _maybe—"_

"Slippy, she's underage."

"And so am I, _brothah." _He extended his arms out to his sides like a holy man beholding a divine force. "So, we'll break the law… _togethah."_

It didn't take long for Fox to finally break past his bewilderment and start to laugh under his breath. Slippy gradually laughed along, satisfied with himself.

"Well played, Slip."

"I try."

_"__Wow…"_ The cocky voice of the first newcomer arrived back out of nowhere. The bird stepped to the opposite side of the fighter, folding his arms and glancing between him and Fox.

"Where the hell have you been?" Fox spoke up his version of a "hello".

Falco puffed some air through his itty-bitty nostrils. _"Skipping stones."_

The blood inside Slippy's face suddenly began to tingle and caused an uncontrollable laugh to burst past his big mouth. "Hey, that's what I said! Did I not call that one, Fox? Did I not?"

"Yeah. Congrats. You forget this place echoes like a mile-long cave, moron?" The fruity looking bird turned his dull eyes to face Fox who appeared to be stuck in another daze thanks to the absence of attention. "So do we have a clue yet on how that little vixen upstairs managed to nearly kick our asses with _that_ thing?"

Falco pointed and they both looked across the hangar where the ghost fighter was locked on a service platform, basically untouched, from what their eyes could tell.

"Do we know anything about it?" Fox asked.

"Not much," Slippy answered while secretly adoring the sight of its sleek, metallic maroon paintjob covering the oval hull – the very look of it reminded him of a giant flat pebble, glossy and beautiful like a gem. "Custom made. Obviously illegal. No registration, no records whatsoever. I call her _Ghost._ Title seems appropriate enough for being one-of-a-kind."

"That thing carries EMP missiles like the private enforcers used by the Zoness mob," said Falco. He rubbed his arms, appearing to be still itching from his recent bath of electricity. "That sort of ordinance is rare. Only comes through the black market's highest echelons. You'd have to be a don, or have a goose that lays golden eggs to come up with the moolah for that kind of illegal tech."

"All I wanna know is why and _how_ it's designed to use sapphirian alloy." Fox turned his head and watched the craft, his face appearing to be still battling the aftermath of this fabled "seizure" of his. "That thing about ripped me to pieces till I managed to bust its automatic targeting."

"Yeah, right." Falco puffed more air past his beak. "By slapping _Ghost_ unconscious with the broad side of your wing, you freak."

"Yeah, _thanks _for that, Fox." Slippy nudged his head to the Arwing furthest away, the one which had its adjacent wing severed from the hull. "I was hoping to get some sleep before we reached Fortuna. But, _nooo, _looks like I'm gonna be up for hours trying to glue on a spare wing from a—"

"Shouldn't you be working?" Fox immediately interrupted him.

Slippy felt his body slump even lazier on his fighter's wing. "I'm taking a break."

"Well, then, break's over. Get back to work."

"I said I'll have it fixed before we—"

_"__Now."_

"Ok-ok." He immediately lifted himself up and hopped down to the ground. "Just saying, try and use your guns from now on rather than your…"

He stopped once he noticed Fox had been staring at him with an apathetic face that spoke of a hint of frustration. He shut his lips and turned to walk down the row to meet the wounded bird in question.

Fox and Falco had begun talking about something random while Slippy began fitting his gloves on tighter. He eventually turned his head to try and listen in, just to find Fox fading away from the conversation and stepping up towards Ghost. His arm began to rise forward from his side.

_"__Hey-hey-hey,_ no touchy-touchy," Slippy was quick to warn. "You'll get shocked. It's got an operational protocol inscribed for that…"

But Fox didn't listen to him. Rather he reached out his hand and with dumb, speechless surprise on Slippy's part… nothing. No shock. To an even more of a bizarre display, the cockpit glass at its dented front rose up to seemingly allow him entrance.

"That…" Slippy felt his warning finish past his near-frozen lips, "…that girl's DNA."

"What?" Falco spoke up, appearing something between confused and pissed off. " What are you talking about?"

"It must be some sort of racial identification protocol," Slippy went on, stepping away from the Arwing row while shuffling through the file cabinets in his head for a better answer. "The profiler template must give access to members of a pre-determined species. They use something similar on Lilya, but it's designed for family busses."

_"__Family busses?"_

"Yeah. Big families need big busses. What, you try fitting forty brothers and sisters into the back of a hovercab. Tell me then what you think."

_"__Bio-stalement…"_ The phrase echoed from what could've been described as "cold lips" belonging to Fox.

Slippy watched absent-mindedly as Fox suddenly began to turn to the side, looking around for his imaginary friends, again. He briefly turned his eyes to Falco just as the bird glanced to him, looking just as lost.

"I'm gonna go lay down," Fox suddenly spoke upon taking a step in the direction of the cargo tunnel leading back up to the service lift.

Gradually, the fox took his silent leave upon a strangely sturdy balance despite the mental "dizziness" that made everything else about him look intoxicated. When he disappeared around the corner, Slippy looked back and instantly met Falco shaking his head up at him from the ground.

"Great," said the bird, sarcastically. "He's Section H."

"Section _what?"_

"Borderline psycho," he explained. "Totally out of his mind. No marbles left to lose."

Slippy wanted to deny it, but not much seemed to come to mind as a stronger argument. "Well," he still gave it his best shot, "he hasn't gotten much sleep in the past few days—actually, I don't think he's gotten any."

"So? I never sleep more than six hours every two days, and I don't get all loopy every time I come across the same breed."

Slippy shrugged, again. "Well I can guess in Fox's case, that _Birds of the same feather_ idiom goes right out the window."

"Huh," the bird grunted, sounding partially convinced. "Yeah, you might have a point there."

_"__So…_ what sort of _feather_ are you, exactly?"

"The tall-and-handsome sort. What else?"

"No, I meant…" Slippy cleared his throat. "Well, you've got blue feathers… a little red… and you kinda remind me of a—"

"Of a what?" Falco's eyes turned as sharp as daggers.

_"__Um_… never mind."

* * *

His eyes fidgeted and suddenly his nose started to sniff uncontrollably. Tears leaked from the crevasses and gradually formed across his lashes, causing a quick flutter, then a more forceful blink.

Every night since he first started sleeping in Dad's old quarters, there was always a shadow hiding in every corner—not _hiding,_ but instead, just standing idle like totem poles with a thousand awkward eyes staring down at his consistent failure to win a solid six hour rest without waking up every five minutes.

_Leave me alone, Dad_

He might've spoken it aloud, half-asleep or a quarter-asleep. He also might've crossed eyes with another one of these "ghosts" sulking beside his bed…

He quickly opened up his eyes in full, suddenly fear-struck.

"Dad?" He watched one shadow at the side of his bed move closer, orange fur just barely distinguishable from the black-blue, enough to force his hand to reach up and switch on the lamp above and…

_"__Jeez!"_

_"__I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"_ spoke the voice of a pubescent teenager.

"Vexa? What are you—I thought I locked the…"

"Yeah, um…" Vexa's pointy snout cringed as she quickly cleared her throat. Rising up her fingers, she exposed what looked like two bobby pins resting in her black palms.

"Right," said Fox, wondering whether or not the little vixen meant to break in to get payback for her busted up fighter chained down in the hangar.

"Sorry, I… couldn't sleep."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she answered, quickly, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm fine. Absolutely. One hundred per…" Her energetic voice suddenly cut itself short and she appeared to fall into another mental quagmire. "Could we start over? From the beginning? Like we haven't met? Right now?"

Fox blinked for the first time since he first woke up to the newest of surprise entrances. "Uh… sure. I mean, why not?"

"Hi, I'm Vexa. Polisatti. _Vexa _Polisatti. _Vex_ for short. Just call me Vex."

"Fox," he returned, but his answer instantly struck his ears like a paradox. "I, eh, know it's not the most original name in the book. For us, I mean, but—"

"Fox." The little teenage fox was quick to repeat past her somewhat "determined" expression. "Right. Good to meet you."

The two of them uncontrollably fell into a bout of silence. Fox felt his eyes struggle to keep in contact with Vexa's own. The feeling that he was looking into his own eyes kept annoyingly pecking at his skull.

"So…"

"Yeah," Vexa returned, with that hyperactive voice of hers. "I'm, uh, sorry about earlier. For shooting you, I mean. I thought… I mean, with all the pirates in Meteo, it's…"

"No, no, it's fine." He was quick to wave off the apology. "You mentioned that when we first brought you in."

"I did?" She immediately blinked rapidly and shook her head. "I mean, yeah, of course. Of course I did. Sorry. Can you put some clothes on? Please?"

"Wha…" But he looked down and immediately jumped at the sight below and quickly pulled up the bed sheets. _"Ah, hell—_sorry, I didn't mean…"

"You sleep naked?"

"I… No! Wait, I… My stuff's in the laundry."

"Oh."

He quickly began twisting around, almost violently, looking for something to cover up the lower territories. But before he could spot anything useful, he noticed Vexa's arm extend with her nimble little paws gripping his trousers. Briefly glancing to her face, she appeared to be… "smiling" but in a way he couldn't quite tell if she was being sadistic or just simply… "courteous".

He quickly snatched the pants from her grip and began twisting around beneath the covers until he managed to finally pull them up past his disruptive tail, and then gradually slid his legs off from the bed and set his bare feet to the floor.

"Did you get shot?" Vexa suddenly asked. "The scars? On your shoulders?"

Fox glanced to his right and noticed the black spot burnt into the orange fur above his arm, from where Falco "rescued" him back on Corneria, and then to the still-fresh scar on his left, where his memory quickly shot back months ago to Meteo and that reptilian sniper, Leon. "Yeah," he eventually answered, "a couple times."

"You call _that_ a scar?"

Her answer was spoken enthusiastically behind an open smile. She suddenly reached over and pulled up the right sleeve of her tattered red shirt and exposed her entire skinny arm. Decorating her light orange fur were three marks embedded deep beneath her fur that resembled claw marks.

"And _these…"_

She pulled up her adjacent pant legs to expose the bare shins, where there were more scars brandished across the skinny muscle, one appearing to be a burn mark similar to his own gunshot souvenirs, the other looking to be a cluster of little dots that Fox could only assume were made from tiny pieces of shrapnel from an explosion.

_"__Oh,_ and the best one's right here!" She suddenly began to pull up her shirt above the waist line.

_"__That's_… ok," Fox quickly waved for her to stop. "You've made your point."

The little fox gave off a slight expression of disappointment as she released her shirt, but suddenly swapped it, almost immediately, for a self-portrait of childish embarrassment. "Sorry, um, I kinda get a bit, um, _hyper_ about this sorta stuff. You know?"

"Yeah. I noticed."

Vexa gradually began to lose some of the life in her face as she apparently began to notice something strange coming out of his own face. "Do I look weird, or something?" she asked, quickly. "Is it the fur? I trimmed it last week. Frizzy? My old friends from the Colony—they always called it frizzy."

Fox felt himself blink, awkwardly, but suddenly realized he had been staring at her moronically for the entire time. "No, no. I didn't mean to stare." He allowed his eyes to drop down to his lap and feel the trapped air kicking at the back of his throat finally spill through. "Ok, I sound like an idiot. It's… The thing is, I'm not, eh… _adept_ to… _interactions _between people like…"

Vexa shrugged her shoulders, blank-faced. "Us?"

"Yeah." Fox dropped his shoulders and felt his lips frown, the embarrassment of the moment continuing to slap "stupid" notes to his forehead.

"You lived on Corneria, right?" Vexa investigated, continuing to stand before his bed upon fidgety feet. "All dogs? That must've sucked. They didn't eat you? I heard some of em eat foxes. Rabbits, too. You've never been to the, um, _Colony?_ Not once?"

"The what?"

"The Colony. The space station. You mean you haven't…" Vexa blinked, herself, and closed her clueless lips as a revelation hit her mind. "Right. Peppy said you've never been there. Almost forgot. Brain's working now. Sorry."

Fox was too flabbergasted to even want to ask about this "Colony", nor _how_ exactly she knew Peppy, as well as _where from,_ along with _from when._ His silence seemed to spread out and fuse Vexa's own lips shut and she appeared to blink several times, occasionally glancing to her sides, as if something in her mind was knocking at the backs of her teeth, something she was reluctant to say.

"What were you doing in Meteo?" he asked, his mind suddenly wanting to start an investigation of his own. "Back before we, you know… tried to vaporize each other."

But his question seemed to pass by the girl's pointy ears and Fox began to sense a strange vibe flowing past her unusually alert eyes as she looked off to the side, towards the window depicting space overtop the room's desk.

"Vexa?"

"Are we safe here?" she suddenly asked, her voice appearing to reprise her previous jittery attitude.

Fox blinked. "Yeah, of course we are. What's the worry?"

The only response he got from her was a series of rapid blinks of her lashes and her focus continuing to pinball between him and the window out into space.

"Is… somebody after you?"

"Huh?" She stopped playing pinball with her focus. "Yes—I mean, no. I—"

"Vexa, if you've got trouble on your tail I need to know, or else it might endanger—"

"No-no-no-no, it won't. I promise. Or it will, I don't…" Again, she cut her ranting short.

Fox sighed past his nostrils. "Alright, relax. We'll worry about it later."

While scratching his claws over the fur rolling over his cheekbones, he suddenly stopped and glanced up to notice Vexa was no longer interested in the window. She was looking at him now in the same fashion he probably exchanged to her while gawking at her identity inside the cockpit of her "Ghost" fighter. He frowned when he finally directly acknowledged her.

"Sorry," she apologized, again. "You… look so much like it. The picture."

"What picture?"

"The one, um, Mum always keeps hung on the wall. Back home."

Fox frowned some more. "A picture of your… brother, father?"

"Yeah," she quickly answered.

"Which?"

"What? Oh, I mean, yeah. Dad. My father."

Fox rolled a little in his seat for comfort, holding his hands as he felt the subject of the conversation finally begin to roll onto flat ground instead of down a rocky slope. "Your mother keeps his picture pinned to the wall… Did he die?"

"I don't really know," she answered, truthfully. "Not many of the others back home talk about him. Not much. I don't know why, it was almost like they were… embarrassed, or… something. Some people liked him, some, well, _hated_ him. Others liked him-hated him, a little bit of both."

"What did you think of him?"

"Me? Seriously? I hated those stupid people who said bad things. Hated those stupid kids who picked on me because of him, just cus their stupid parents kept saying he was stupid. They're stupid. He was…" She trailed off into a brief silence. "I never really knew him. Mum never really talks about him. I think he never really loved her—I mean, _dammit,_ I didn't mean to say that."

"It's ok, it's ok. You can trust me. Look." Fox quickly got up, feeling some random flyby of enthusiasm set off a firecracker beneath his buttocks. He stepped over to Dad's old desk and picked up the all-too familiar family snapshot.

He immediately offered it to Vexa, who looked at it for a couple seconds before lightly taking it in her steady grip.

"That's my dad," he narrated the story within the silver frame, "and that's his ship, like one of the ones downstairs. You would've liked him. He was a soldier, a real famous one, a celebrity. You might recognize him."

"Yeah. I do."

"That's the only picture we ever had together," said Fox, through a chuckle. "He was always working while I was growing up, and… Heck, I don't ever really remember us taking it. It was so long ago, you know? This is the only hard copy that's out there, I think."

"This is you," she murmured, sliding a claw over the little pup on top Dad's shoulder.

Fox looked down and smirked lightly at the ridiculousness of those two stubby fingers of his giving that peace sign he would've never imagined giving nowadays. "Yep, that's me. Talk about embarrassing, eh?"

"No, no. I meant… This _isn't_ you."

He felt his lips lose some life. "What? No, of course it's me. I mean, I know I looked a little chubby for eight, but—"

_"__Chubby?_ Who the hell you calling…" That sudden spurt of aggression left as suddenly as it appeared. "Sorry, I thought you meant… No, what I'm saying is, it isn't you… it's me."

The word tank instantly sprung a leak and everything was evaporating before it reached half-way up his throat, and the closest signal working its way up from Fox's muscles was light years away from reaching his brain.

"Those green walls in the background—that's Jeffris Hangar, I remember playing there," Vexa explained, something about her face speaking of a revelation outside of his own. "That's where the kids in the Colony go to get candy from the passing star pilots. My mum took this picture… I was six."

* * *

_"__PEPPY! GET YOUR WRINKLY OLD ASS OUT HERE, NOW!"_

His yell echoed through the empty halls almost as loud as his boots stomping onto the floor. Nobody arose from behind any corner to meet his call, including the bloody son of a motherless rat in question.

_"__Peppy, get out here or I swear I will throw you out the closest airlock!"_

His search was first met with the sound of footsteps from the around the corner leading up to the crew lounge. Then it was by Peppy's face and his casual pace on top a slight limp of his bad leg. He was busy fastening his flight gloves over his wrists without acknowledging Fox with proper eye contact.

"Fox, whatever it is, this isn't the time. We're fifteen minutes out from—"

"You just thought I'd found out for myself?" The moment he was within attack range, he reached out gripped the old hare's collar. Using his full strength, wary of Peppy's own, he pulled and slammed the hare's back into the adjacent door, pinning him.

"No, can't say that specific thought ever resonated," answered Peppy, his expression looking deceivingly clueless, less threatened.

"Is that girl my sister?"

"Could this please wait until after the mission?"

"How about you tell me now?"

"How about instead I tell the story where I broke your old man's arm after he grabbed me by the collar like you're doing now?"

"Oh, yeah? Did you break her old man's arm, too? Or was it the same guy?"

"Don't push me, boy." Finally, that "cluelessness" disappeared and allowed the truth to finally "resonate" with Fox's ambush.

After Peppy budged, Fox instantly reached down with one hand and tore his pistol from his leg holster, pointing it to the ground between his feet and Peppy's.

"Try it and you'll be back wearing a leg brace, old man."

"Fox," Peppy spoke through a sigh. "Relax, or you're gonna give yourself a…" Peppy's eyes blinked at something peculiar. "Are those really _bags_ under your eyes? _God,_ boy, when was the last time you slept?"

There was a sudden echo of two footsteps to the right which caused Fox to break focus and turn to acknowledge the newcomer, and of all people…

Vexa stared with her naturally sharp eyes appearing more "confused" than "sharp," the pupils shifting between Fox and Peppy's faces along with the gun that was stuck to Fox's palm.

"After we're done," Peppy spoke calmly, continuing to stare him in the eye. "I promise."

It took a long moment until Fox remembered the tightness of his grip on Peppy's coat. Dropping it, he holstered his pistol and turned a strict stare in Peppy's direction.

"Get her someplace safe. Be down in the hangar in five, or I'll leave you behind. Now _move it."_

"Aye-aye, skip." Peppy's features were completely neutral and like so many other times Fox had to force himself to break eye contact and make a hasty exit, feeling the presence of Peppy's all-knowing gaze following his exit with the intuition of a wizard.

But this time, something gave him the figure it wasn't _him_ who Peppy was watching, the same as it wasn't _him_ who Dad had been memorializing inside his office. The thought made his fangs grind together, along with whatever warmth there was left to feel inside the old man's office.

_I appreciate the love and support, Dad…_

_You two-timing son of a bitch_


	9. Chapter 8

**8 - **

_"…__Just saying, if you get a look at these projections coming in from the… Yeah, yeah, _just another blizzard_—what's new, right?—but there's something coming in that's… Hell, I don't know what it is, man, but it sure as hell ain't reading like one of our signals."_

_ "__They already put out the call, Echo—it's nothing."_

_ "__Catshit, it's nothing! I don't give a rat's ass what Command says. I've been knee-dip in this frigging ice box for six months and not once has any signal like this come through louder than a—"_

_ "__Echo One-seven, quit bitching over the general frequency—you wanna gossip with your boyfriend over in Victor Actual, do it on a private channel when it isn't your watch. _Over."

_ "__Yes, sir. Sorry, sir—but sir, is there any chance of sending a drone over to investigate the disturbance at Delta Actual?"_

_ "__Not while they've got ice spears falling over their heads, Echo. The signal's a fake – training exercise for the boys over in Delta. Now get back to monitoring your side of the planet. Keep fantasizing over an attack and that's exactly what you'll get, Lieutenant Poiter."_

_ "__Yes, colonel. Sorry, colonel."_

There was a chuckle echoing through the frequency, one coming through with clarity unlike the previous static-consumed transmissions.

_"__Poor bastard," _Slippy spoke through the radio. _"If it wasn't for Pepper's BS all-clear transmission, this Poiter guy would probably get a promotion."_

_ "__For picking up a signal so obviously Venomian? That's just a pat on the back for easy effort—a transfer off Fortuna, if his CO's in a warmer mood." _Peppy exhaled aloud through the radio stream, so obviously tired and informally reluctant to be flying blind into another mission. His picture in the screen joggled from some turbulence, the planet outside suffering the worst cosmic case of the common cold. _"We're eighty klics out from Delta Base—expect this damned blizzard to only get worse. Arwings should hold up against chops, as long as Slippy winterized the G-diffusers properly."_

_ "__Sure, I only spent the last six hours of my would-be beauty sleep getting the lovebirds bundled up for ice storms. _Almost_ had the time to spare for a little shuteye after gluing one of their limbs back on… How's your bird handling that sprained wing, Fox? Not flying too crooked, I hope."_

The radio was silent for several awkward seconds.

_ "__Eh… Fox?"_

"I can hear you just fine, Slippy," he broke his silence, passionlessly.

_"__Sheesh, I was just making sure I did a good job."_

"You did fine. Now shut up and focus on the job."

_"__Fox, you need to calm down and forget about that—"_

"Did I ask for your input, Peppy?" he lashed out, his temper standing on the edge of a cliff. "Did I ask for anything, to that matter?"

_"__I'm with Pussycat on this one,"_ added Falco. _"You guys need to shut up and focus on this blind-flight into god-knows-what's waiting for us over towards this ghost base."_

_"__Agreed," _Peppy responded, flawlessly. _"Keeping the channel clear."_

Thanks to good peripheral vision and part of his focus being distracted by his last temper spurt, Fox could easily tell that Peppy was looking down into his camera, his eyes staring at him through the video screen. Eyes still all-knowing… still therapeutic.

_Goddamn psychiatrist…_

_Goddamn liar…_

_"…__Echo, this is Victor—we're picking up light signatures moving over Delta's SOI. No trace of ape signatures, so could you _please_ stop trying to jinx us with your…"_

"Slippy, see if you can block off these echoes from the frequency."

This time, _he _was met with several seconds of silence, Slippy's face below in his video not showing one ounce of acknowledgement, until the toad reached over to his control panel and flipped several switches, causing the ricocheting radio waves bouncing across their frequencies to gradually turn to hisses and soon vanish entirely. Not a sound came afterwards, apart from the Arwing's humming engine.

Fox slumped in his seat and briefly closed his eyes to hide the sight of them rolling. On one shoulder he could feel his mini devil rolling on its back from sadistic laughter, along with the bump of his mini angel furiously throwing its harp against the side of his face.

_What's the matter, Daddy's Boy?_ that devil tormented.

_Or should I say…_

_Daddy's Girl?_

Out of childish impulse, he hissed a curse past his barred fangs and threw his head backwards and slammed it against his headrest. But it was this very move which somehow signaled a sudden _sputter _to joggle the craft, making him think he'd hit something.

"What the hell?" He felt panic begin to leak into his bloodstream once the engine suddenly _poof_ed into a coma. "Um—oh, crap. Oh, shit. Slippy? Got a bit of a problem here. Slippy? Guys, do you read? _Guys?"_

His rapid panic was met with radio silence. But the screens of the others were on and clearly showing that they themselves were fine, eyes up and alert but oblivious to his unconscious craft slowly dropping out of formation, as well as his efforts to wave into the camera to gain their absent attention.

"Guys, are you hearing me? My engine just… _Guys!"_

But it was moment he yelled when a sudden ear-splitting distortion shot through the intercom and screamed through the cockpit. The tone of it sounded strong enough to crack glass, and Fox felt his face instantly shrink and his hands lurch up to grab his ears. He quickly fought past the impulse and stuck his hands back onto the controls, saving the Arwing's steering. But his altitude continued to drop, and still no glances of attention coming from his "teammates".

_What the hell is going on? Seriously! Of all the goddamn perfect moments for a malfunction…_

_"__Rain, rain… go away…"_

"Oh, crap_…"_

That voice of nightmarish distortion laughed through the speakers of his radio and sent shockwaves up his spine. The muscles in his neck instantly grew tense, as if that alleyway assassin from Corneria was choking him to death this time around with the power of telekinesis.

_"__I'm… dreaaaming… of a whiiite…"_

_Oh, dear god…_

_ "…__Christmaaasss…"_

As if the choice in songs wasn't torture enough, the distorted screech suddenly began to scream through the speakers again, this time causing the electronic interface of his control panel to randomly turn different colors.

_Red_

_Green_

_Blue…_

_ …__no White? Why isn't there any White?_

_"__Remember the breath of death, McCloud."_

A sudden change in mood—the first he's ever heard from the phantom voice. But when words attempted to leap up past his throat, he croaked.

The distortion remained like a broken audio record until…

_"__FOX!"_

He snapped to, but was under the impression he'd just slipped past another blade in the dark. But the systems were up and the engine at full, and his grip on the controls leveled the Arwing now gliding a nail-biting twenty feet above the snowy Fortuna hills below.

_"__Fox, wake the hell up!" _Peppy's voice rung directly into his ears. _"For the love of… _Never_ in forty years have I ever—"_

"Wha-what just happened?" he said, still feeling panicked, his eyes darting across the cockpit glass, searching for peeping phantoms. "Where's the—"

_ "__NEVER," _Peppy's voice returned louder and angrier than before, _"have I seen ANYONE fall asleep at the controls right before entering a hot zone!"_

_ "__Yeah, you kinda dozed off, dude," _Slippy summarized.

"That wasn't… I just saw…"

"Fox,_ slap yourself in the face a few times and _focus." Fox had to keep his eyes up and away from Peppy's picture in the video feed, which was the first time he's ever expected the man wanted to strangle him to death, un-metaphorically. _"We're five minutes out from Delta. Buckle down and keep your eyes—"_

_"__Open._ Yes, I get it. I'm sorry. _Ok?"_ He shook his head violently for a quick second. "Slippy… any changes in the Venomian signal?"

The toad hummed a "No" in the frequency.

"And the lovebird's flying fine," he added, feeling his once fuming temper evaporate for the time being. "Sorry for the lip back there."

_"__It's all good, boss. Let's go rescue that agent."_

"Right…" He took a deep breath to keep at bay any other micro-nightmares that were lurking around his mind waiting to pull him back into a deathly snooze. "Pep, we should be close enough to get a clear transmission through this interference. See if you can reach Delta."

When he was met with another unmoving silence, he looked down to see Peppy in the video, eyes glaring at him. Two of his fingers pointed briefly at his chest, then pointed to Fox through the screen, then rose up to tap one of his erect ears, and finally brought one finger to make a silent "Shhh".

Fox reached down to shift the radio frequencies to a private channel linked to Peppy's fighter.

_"__You know," _Peppy immediately spoke into the frequency the moment he switched to his channel, _"there was one time, back during what was supposed to be a quick in-and-out on Zoness, that your dad actually crashed his bird into a swamp for what looked like no apparent reason. You wanna hear what he blamed it on?"_

"Peppy, seriously, I'm fine."

_"__Fox, you need to realize the worse the condition you're in to fly means a heavier workload for your squadmates. They need to keep their eyes _up,_ not constantly glancing down to make sure their CO isn't dozing away for a catnap."_

"It won't happen again. You have my word."

_"__And if you can't sleep back on the ship, just go make yourself a cocktail at the bar and wash it down with a fifth of tequila. That'll be sure to knock you out on your tail."_

"Good advice, Pops." Fox smirked while shaking his head towards the floor below his seat. "So, wait… What _did_ Dad blame for crashing his ship back on Zoness?"

_"__Dragons," _Peppy revealed, unenthusiastically. _"He thought the local birds were dragons that were trying to eat him. We thought he was doped on stims till we found out he'd been going five days without a wink."_

Fox hummed past a limp jaw, partially clueless. "And you're really sure he wasn't just, you know… _high?"_

It was after "high" that suddenly the collision alarm began beeping madly, as if the Arwing was intentionally trying to tease him. But it wasn't a joke—there was something fifty yards out that the fighter was seconds away from meeting head-on.

"Peppy!"

_ "__I see it!"_

They both pulled their crafts into stomach-sinking lifts and slipped over the top of the structure. There was a quick _screech_ coming in through the audio waves that resembled a knife slightly scraping the edge of another blade.

"Ok. _That_ one was definitely your fault."

_"__What was that?"_

Fox spat out a chuckle. "Dragons?"

_"__Did you guys see that?" _Slippy's voice spoke in the moment Fox switched back channels.

_"__Slippy, you're the one with the coordinates," _said Peppy._ "Are we close to the base's bio-dome, or what?"_

_"__That… that was it! I mean a piece of it."_

"What?"

_ "__Ah, crap…"_ Falco's voice drearily rolled into the frequency. _"Told you guys this job was botched from the start."_

* * *

On certain days back at the academy, occasionally the administration would host assemblies for visiting war veterans from the Venom Conspiracy to come in and ruminate upon their experiences.

Fortuna was never a favorite subject. What little the vets said mostly included the cold—strike that, _all_ they talked about was the cold. Conducting patrols around the Barrens (what they called anywhere there wasn't a base or an outpost – the ice consumed frontier), in the air and even along the ground, the planet was a regular sadist, consistently bombarding every passerby with a blizzard of winds reaching an unforgiving one hundred KPH, topped off with the occasional shower of "ice spears" where every individual piece of hale was as long as a toddler's arm, and conveniently shaped like a weapon out of medieval times.

One ex-sergeant who was stationed at one of the bases during the Conspiracy claimed that the Venomians had adapted a sort of bio-weapon that could redirect ice spear storms over Cornerian installations. Those soldiers who were "fortunate" enough to be inside the lower sections of their fortifications during a storm generally survived only to be immediately congratulated by a Venom assault force the moment after the hale let up. The sergeant mentioned him and his buddies—four hounds total—were the only survivors of a base originally housing an entire company of Cornerian guardsmen. He never did mention _how_ they survived.

It was after the Siege of Fortuna that the Cornerians re-fortified their installations on this icy sphere with bio-protective outer shells—bio-domes that bubbled the entire perimeter and protected the installation from nature's brutality. The designs were considered marvels of the modern age, with each "dome" able to self-sustain the base within for entire years, as well as its inhabitants, even through the course of war. The standard fort on Fortuna, already built using the strongest material known to modern sentient life, was considered able to sustain months of orbital bombardment by numerous enemy ships.

_"__A base protected by a dome," _Slippy added_, "is considered near-impenetrable."_

_"__Then what the hell happened to the dome?"_ Falco asked, glass-eyed in his virtual portrait.

Fox grimaced at the hazy depiction of a half-buried, half-demolished installation where gigantic shards of what must've been the dome created small mountains surrounding the primary building—an installation that funnily resembled the shape of an old-fashioned sink faucet—which surprisingly looked unscathed.

_"__Is it too obvious?"_ said Falco.

_"__Not picking up any foreign signatures in and around the installation."_ Slippy's arms within his cockpit twisted back and forth across his controls, his gloved fingers busily managing the incoming data stream flowing into his monitors._ "Recommend we go along with the _first contact_ approach."_

_ "__The hell is that supposed to mean?"_

_ "__Aliens."_

_ "__Wha—are you serious, Chick-lick?"_

_"__The only things out there that have enough force to take down a hundred-foot thick bio-dome is either a moon falling from orbit, a direct impact from a meteor, or a thousand guns from a thousand different ships—or freaking aliens from dark space." _The toad tapped one of his index fingers to his oversized noggin. _"Mind you, Fortuna's only moon is on the opposite side of the planet, I don't see any crater left over from one of Emperor Asteroid's playthings, and I haven't seen a trace of a Venomian invasion fleet."_

Fox, who had been busy examining the snowy destruction beyond, glanced down to the video screen to meet eyes with Peppy. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

_"__I'm thinking the old monkey's unleashed another one of his science projects," _said Peppy, who also had been silent since they first crossed into the base's perimeter.

_ "__There isn't anything out there that possesses the magnitude or even the velocity to blow open one of the most advanced fortifications known to modern man."_ Slippy was breathing hard out loud now that his mind was struggling in computing through mathematical impossibilities._ "Not even a gauss bomb—_the_ strongest weapon ever built by man—could puncture, let alone _shatter_ an entire bio-dome. The technology doesn't exist, and won't exist for probably another hundred years."_

_ "__That's a little like what they said after Andross invented G-Diffusion,"_ said Peppy.

There was an awkward sound in the frequency from Slippy which strangely resembled a croak. _"That's… no, wait, it was Claus von Strudivant who invented the system. I know, because he was my inspiration growing up."_

_ "__The feline scientist who revolutionized the modern day form of space flight…" _Peppy appeared to be trying to shake away a growing grin. _"Bet the history books never mentioned Strudivant once being Andross's pupil. All he did was make a copy of the plans and slip out the back door. Advertised it to the Cornerians, built his own version of a prototype generator, and instantly became the richest man in the galaxy, all off of someone else's idea."_

"A copy-cat." Fox chuckled. "Talk about irony."

_ "__When we found out, Claus was already down to his ninth life on his deathbed-to-be. The old bastard was so egotistical that he paid James and I a quarter of his fortune to keep our mouths shut. He died that same week—old age, the doctors said. But we knew better."_

_ "__Cool story, Pops," _Falco bumped in. _"I got a story—about three storytellers who got ambushed cus they were too busy telling stories."_

_ "__Falco, just relax," _said Slippy._ "There's nothing on radar. Whatever struck this base struck hard and dipped out as quick as it arrived."_

Fox blinked upon taking a look at his own radar. The little diagram of the Arwing continued to send out thin waves into the darkness of the screen, only three other dots showing up at each of his flanks. It was just the four of them, from what technology could tell.

"Rob," he spoke into the frequency, "is there anything coming up from the long range scanners? Hard to tell from our viewpoint."

There was an inconvenient silence following his request.

"Rob?"

_"__Uh, hey, Fox," _a new and jittery voice entered the frequency.

"Vexa? What are you—"

_"__Peppy said I could stay on the bridge, and Rob, well, um…" _

Fox felt his brow rise, along with his temper. _"Um,_ what?"

_"__Um…" _Vexa grumbled. _"He and I were playing a game to pass the time, you see, and we sorta—he sorta, um, well, _broke_ something. What was it again?"_ Strangely, there was a sound of squeaking metal in the background during another inconvenient pause. _"Yeeeah—he can't talk. Can you move? Nope—he can't move, either."_

Fox felt his fangs start to grind together. _"Peppy…"_

_ "__Vex, honey, I need you to listen to me,"_ Peppy spoke with a fatherly calm._ "Can you look at the black circle-shaped screen at the control panel, right next to the helm? It should be blinking with several glowing dots."_

There was a brief pause and the sounding of shuffling footsteps. _"Um… is it the one with the little triangles and squares below it?"_

_ "__That's the one. Now, press the button that's shaped like a green triangle."_

Another pause that was keeping Fox's teeth gritted.

_"__Ok… the screen just turned green. Did that rhyme?"_

_ "__Yes, it did—now, can you see four little green dots moving up towards the top of the screen?"_

_ "__Yyyes… is this like heat vision?"_

_ "__No, it's a radiation scanner. Ship engines emit low amounts through the exhaust—called a draft—and they appear white on the scanner. If the dot was something smaller, brighter, that'd mean the signature was coming from something emitting a better concentrated draft, like a missile, or a—"_

"Peppy, she needs a _crash course,_ not a whole goddamn semester of flight school. _Vexa,_ are there any other signatures coming up on the scanner?"

_"__Um…"_

_ "__Dots. _Are there any other glowing _dots_ anywhere else on the screen?"

_"__Um… no."_

_"__Well, that's a relief," _said Slippy. _"You can relax, Fruit Loop. No ambushes this time."_

_ "__Try saying that again in the next five minutes, Chick-lick."_

"Again_ with the Chick-lick…"_

_ "__Vex," _Peppy chimed in, again, _"now I need you to press the button below that looks like a red square."_

_ "__I already did," _Vexa added, quickly. _"Screen just turned blue."_

_"__That's the—"_

_ "__It's the _heat scanner, _I know. I'm not dumb."_

_ "__There should be a large cluster shaped like a cross glowing orange near the center of the screen. That's the main complex."_

_ "__Um… no. No, everything's blue."_

Fox blinked at the news.

_"__Are you sure?" _said Slippy._ "There's supposed to be a couple hundred personnel inside that building. That scanner should be picking up every single one of them."_

_ "__Well… there is this one little dot standing still. In the middle."_

Fox blinked, again. "Just one?"

_"__Yeah, I can barely see it. Really small. I think… I don't know, it might be a person."_

Fox looked down and met the rest of the team's eyes through the video. "Let's just hope this dot's still alive to tell us what the hell happened to the base and the three hundred men that were supposed to be guarding it."

* * *

_"__Keep yourselves nice and bundled up on while inside, gents," _Slippy spoke through the radio. _"And don't expect it to get any warmer the deeper you go. I count a couple dozen breach points all across the facility. Life support's just barely holding together and oxygen levels are down eighty percent."_

"What about the automatic security protocol?" Fox spoke into his mike. "Turrets? Drones? Anything like that?"

_"__Nah, we got lucky in that part. All drones appear to be hooked up to the primary power grid, and being life support's gone to hell, all the remaining power's been re-routed to help compensate. Of course… that doesn't include any foreign power systems in operation. Just to be on the safe side, I'll keep a watch on the grid for any portable energy sources – make sure they're no hostile assault bots lurking around the shadows."_

"Copy that, we'll be careful." Fox adjusted his respirator for a better fit across his features. The service elevator sat momentarily dormant with nearby emergency lighting re-coloring the cement walls and the surrounding mist a light red, almost pinkish shade. His boots below continued to cause a thin layer of ice to crack along the steel floor whenever he shifted his weight. "You stay safe out there, Slip. Cry _wolf,_ and we'll come running no matter what it is."

_"__C'mon, man, you know how much I hate being a burden." _

Fox chuckled. "You're anything but a burden, brothah. Stay sharp out there."

_ "__Roger that. Good luck, guys."_

"You know, Pussycat, I _really_ hope you didn't just jinx us right there." There was a clicking sound of a battery being loaded into an assault rifle. Falco grunted while patting the side of his gun, something about it not meeting his "perfectionist" standards. "I swear to god, if—no, _when_ we finally get pounced on by wolves, if I lose _one_ feather because of you, I'll—"

"You'll what?" Fox rolled his lazy eyes over to look at the squawker while cocking back the bolt of his own rifle. "Peck my eyes out?"

"I was thinking more around _shoot_ them out."

"Oh, Mister Lombardi, _good sir…"_ Fox's voice rolled along as he started to casually pace over the center floor of the lift. "Do be aware that in _this_ particular line of work there is a very, _very_ fine line of interpretation between what's considered a _joke_ and what's considered a _threat…"_ The look in Fox's eyes contradicted his sarcastic tone. "Don't risk trying to judge for yourself where that line exists."

"For the helluva it, let me guess…" Falco cocked his head to the side, the look on his face as smug as the mist flowing about the elevator shaft. _"That_ right there was threat. Do I win a prize?"

"Yeah, you do." As if playing the role of the final domino falling in a stack of three, Peppy to the side cocked his rifle. "Can you _guess_ what it is?"

The smugness of Falco's features instantly evaporated into one of the first expressions of "chocking up" Fox had ever seen shown from the bird.

_"__That_ was a joke," Peppy finished, allowing his rifle to hang from its shoulder strap.

"Well played, old timer," said Fox.

"It's a gift."

_"__Yeah, uh, _guys?"Slippy's voice re-entered the frequency. _"You remember that time I mentioned how I hate being a burden? Yeah, well, uh, it's… kinda spooky out here. You know, flying around, alone… in a blizzard… around a recently demolished impenetrable base—but_ _no rush! No, no… do take your time."_

"Guess there's no arguing with that logic." Peppy's lips behind his clear respirator smirked as he nudged his head towards the lift controls. "Shall we?"

"You lead on." Fox rolled his shoulders while taking a silent deep breath, trying to keep his nervousness from showing up in his face. "I'm not really, eh… _comfortable_ with my ground tactics."

"It's alright to be a little scared."

"Damned straight I'm _scared." _Fox instantly popped into a chuckle, while fighting against the wobble in his legs. "Won't lie—this feels a lot like we're walking straight into a horror flick."

Peppy was about to speak when Falco to the opposite corner suddenly took the silent liberty of stepping forward and pounding the side of his fist onto the control panel. There was a loud _creak_ followed by a steady decline down the shaft. The light had turned into a flashing yellow, while the mist appeared to grow thicker with every foot they descended into the lower complex.

_"__There's an old pirate's saying for horror stories."_ Falco's voice echoed around the rising walls all the while his unblinking eyes glared at Fox past the golden luminescence. _"The first man to cover his eyes is the first man to die… Savvy?"_

* * *

There was an echo of some creaking piece of metal. The sound resembled footsteps, but Fox quickly brushed the paranoia out of his head. They were his _own_ footsteps.

_This place echoes like a cave…_

_"__GUYS?" _a voice blurted into the frequency, causing the three of them to freeze at the center of a long tubular hallway.

Fox hissed past his fangs as he lowered the flashlight attached to his rifle. _"Dammit, _Slippy—what is it?"

_"__Uh, s-sorry, never mind." _The toad quickly cleared his trembling throat. _"Thought this one light in my cockpit was somebody's eyes. Sorry."_

"For the love of…" He groaned while rising up his PDA strapped to his wrist, checking the three-dimensional map of the installation glowing past the card-sized monitor. _"Listen,_ we're only five minutes out from the target. Keep it together until we get back. Ok? _Out."_

Fox retightened his grip on his rifle while staring down the stretch of the hall, spotting another misty intersection. He took a breath and blinked his eyes hard to steady his own unsettled nerves. The whole underground system of caverns—of dark, lifeless tunnels and dead computer stations—was completely tainted with frost that had begun to spread over the knee-low seams of his flight coat. The ghostly luminescence flowing across the walls changed his green jumpsuit to almost azure. The air was as chilly as a meat locker, and with every uncomfortable breath of cold air his respirator would leak out thick streams of mist that would temporarily blind him. He was halfway into taking a step forward and raising his rifle up when he glanced to his side and caught Falco giving him another one of his _cold_ looks… but this one looked more "confused" than the usual "murderous".

"What?"

"Answer me this, real quick," Falco spoke quietly but _sharply_. "Why does a _frog_ get to stay up in the air while you drag the only _bird_ in this second-rate crew down underground?"

"I didn't _intend_ for it to be ironic." Fox squinted his dry eyes while slowly starting back up his pace. He kept his rifle pointed down lane while Falco along the opposite wall of the hallway kept in step with his steady advance. "He's an amphibian. Freezing temperatures don't agree with his biology."

"If that's so, two months ago, why was _he_ the one who jetpacked me off Four Blades through open space—the definition of _freezing."_

"Careless planning?"

"As if that entire jailbreak was anything _but_ careless."

Fox spat air past his snout, causing more mist to float up in front of his sight. "You're welcome, again, by the way."

_"__Quiet,"_ Peppy suddenly sneered from behind while latching his fingers over Fox's sleeve, bringing him to an instant halt. Falco had turned frozen as well, keeping his eyes and his rifle barrel pointed to the next intersection.

"What is it?" Fox kept his glazed eyes forward and his breaths silent, while his ears waited for Peppy's voice.

"Nothing good." Peppy softly pulled him back while he stepped forward, taking over the lead. His usually flaccid ears were suddenly erect, while the openness of his eyes appeared unsettled. "Stay behind me."

Upon reaching the following intersection, instead of remaining tactical—looking down each adjacent stretch or simply keeping his rifle raised up at the ready—Peppy just turned the corner, making a right without stopping, all the while his rifle hung lazily in one hand. Both Fox and Falco were forced to jog in order catch up after suddenly realizing that Peppy was speed-walking forward without even trying to remain covert, as if he were really being led by an invisible leash towards some secret stash of treasure.

Fox was tempted to speak out—his PDA beeped, signaling they were going the wrong way. But something new was keeping his tongue silent and his mind blank. When Peppy had suddenly turned another corner of this growing rat maze of bluish mist, both Fox and Falco glanced to one another and instinctively sped up their jog to a run. Turning the corner they slid to a stop upon finding what had been luring the hare's weathered senses.

Peppy's ears were lowered again, his stance statuesque before a sight that caused Fox's own features to go numb below his respirator. His breaths had temporarily disappeared, along with the mist, and his eyes refused to blink at the sight of a shorter hallway cluttered with a hundred different bodies. All hounds, all dead, every one of them consumed under layers of frost.

"Figures…" Falco sighed while moving farther into the nightmare, his toe claws clicking against the frozen sheets below.

Fox blinked, forcing his own limbs to break through an imaginary shell of ice. He glanced to Peppy who still looked frozen, stepping up to his side to see the old man's stubby snout and naturally _icy _blue irises putting off a dead-like apathy comparable to the piles of corpses stacked across the walls ahead.

Fox found himself staring deeper and deeper at the old man with a growing sensation of worry. "Peppy?"

"Everyone's dead," the hare murmured without a single feature along his face flinching. "Fox, I've seen too much of this shit."

_"__Peppy."_ Fox temporarily ignored the stretch of death and gripped one of the hare's shoulders, causing Peppy to wobble on his flat feet. "Hey, _don't _start talking like that. _Think_ about it—some of them might've gotten to cover before the attack." Fox shined his rifle light back down the way they came, back in the direction of the lone heat source. "We'll keep an eye out for any pockets of survivors. Now let's get moving."

"I don't know, Pussycat," said Falco from a little further up ahead, knee-deep within the lumps of frozen carcasses. "Even if some did survive the blast, they'd have to get by holding their breaths thanks to the air breach."

"It's a military installation filled with trained soldiers," said Fox. "I think they'd have a backup plan in the event they ran out of oxygen."

"Wait a minute, hold up." Falco suddenly stooped down and began shining his light onto a corpse propped up beside the adjacent wall.

Fox grimaced and softly sighed while forcing his legs to start moving again, stepping over and around the dead obstacles lining the short path to Falco. The moment Fox had arrived Falco had turned his light over to one particular dead soldier's face.

Fox instantly recoiled and looked away, feeling his stomach churn from the horrific expression of a hound long suffocated with eyes a ghostly white from being frozen open.

"This changes everything," said Falco, who from below looked at the murdered features of the dead hound like it was nothing new to him. "Look at this."

Fox bit down his teeth and sighed quietly again through his nostrils. He soon forced his head to turn back to look down upon the haunting corpse in detail. One of Falco's feathery fingers pointed to a spot on the forehead that caused Fox to temporarily ignore the horror a few inches below. Falco then raised his attention upwards, shining a light on what looked like small burn marks scattered across the steel wall, resembling stains left over from a series of discharged lasers.

"KIA," Falco elaborated out loud. "Some of these dogs died in a firefight."

"I don't see any weapons." Fox glanced up and down the hall to his right, where something was telling him by the look of the dead bodies that they'd been trapped, defenseless, into this particular hall that he just realized to possess a dead-end. "This was an execution."

Falco turned his head to look up at him, brow raised. "That said…"

"Whoever or whatever murdered them might still be here," Fox finished. "Alright, I've seen enough. Let's go grab whatever's making that heat signature and get the hell out of here."

Falco rose back up and began moving ahead with his expression as cold as the frost floating within the hallway. Once he passed him, Fox gave a fleeting glance back to Peppy, stopping upon noticing the hare's downward stare towards several more corpses of executed hounds, an expression just as dead as the one he arrived with.

"Peppy."

Hearing his name caused the hare to break his trance. He looked up to Fox, and then back down to the corpses, lips partly open.

Fox felt his expression grow stern. "What is your malfunction, soldier?"

Peppy soon turned his face back to meet him, his lips behind his see-through respirator now appearing closed and resolute. "Memories, sir."

"That's not good enough." Fox shook his head and nudged his rifle barrel to the path away. "Fall in."

Peppy rose his gun and immediately began a silent trudge past him, without giving a single glance as Fox watched his eyes refuse to blink from the icy atmosphere of the base interior. Once he passed, Fox spared a blink of his own eyes and was about to resonate on regretting his choice of words, but quickly shut the idea out of his mind.

_You've got a job to do_

_There's no bonus for sympathy_

_That's god's job,_ he spoke in his mind as he moved to bring up the trio's rear.

* * *

Five minutes into a slow and tactical approach to the base's central rooms, the three of them arrived to the corner into a small stretch leading into a partially opened twin doorway.

Fox punched his shoulder against the corner and lowered into a crouch with Peppy stacking up to his rear. Falco had lunged silently across to the opposite corner, his rifle raised to the doorway. A sound resembling glass shards being shifted around from vibrations drifted from the cracked opening, all the while an artificial source of light beamed through and transformed the floating spots of frost in its path into golden flakes.

Fox checked his PDA one last time. Their own signatures were coming up right on top of the mystery heat source. He took a firmer grip around his rifle handle and raised his free hand to point to Falco, then signaling the doorway with two fingers before waving his flat palm in a wide arc through the air in front of him.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Falco whispered.

"Just…" Fox bit down and angrily rose up and turned the corner. "Just shut up and follow."

Falco snorted from close behind his wake. _"Oops, General Pepper, I forgot we weren't in the army."_

"Shut _up."_

They reached the doorway emitting the crackling sound and the strange light. While stacking up once more, Fox noticed a frost-covered plaque sitting above Falco's head that strangely enough read **MESS HALL**.

"Do you think it might be—"

_"__Shhh,"_ Peppy hissed and pulled back Fox by the shoulder and took position in front, right beside the edges of the door. Looking between Fox and Falco, the hare pointed a finger to his chest and then stood up directly in front of the door in a ready position.

Fox nodded and raised three of his fingers back to Falco, who _silently_ nodded for a change, and then to Peppy who nodded back.

_Three…_

_Two…_

_One…_

When the last of his fingers closed into his fist, Peppy threw his leg forward and kicked in the doors, throwing them open the rest of the way. Without much thought, Fox rose up stormed through, rifle raised and his eyes rapidly scanning through the surprisingly _small_ cafeteria.

His adrenaline was just about spent when suddenly he yelped when a concussive burst of laser fire inches away violently rattled his right ear, and caused several pans twenty feet further into the room to _clang_ and pop up into the air.

_"__Falco!" _he barked while dropping his rifle and gripping his ear in pain.

_"__What?"_ Falco soon loosened up his stance and lowered his gun finding that the entire room was empty with exception of a few cluttered tables and tipped-over metal stools. The source of the light appeared up above within a lone light bulb, sparkling the air surrounding its aura.

"Room's clear," Peppy announced from nearby. "You can relax now."

"God_dammit!"_

"What happened?"

Fox hissed while trying to squeeze out the sting piercing his eardrum. _"Nothing,"_ he sneered while reaching up to loosen his buttoned color around his neck. "Is it just me, or did it suddenly get really warm?"

"Heating seems to be functional in here." Peppy to the side pulled down his respirator away from his face and took a few unprotected breaths. "Air, as well."

"That doesn't make any sense. This is a _mess hall,_ not a command center."

Pulling down his respirator and trying to ignore the _ring_ pinballing around his skull, a sound managed to just barely make it through the deafness and cause Fox's head to turn to the doors into a backroom. It was the crackling sound of glass from before, except now it was accompanied by a rumbling that he assumed to be mechanical.

_Now what?_

The backroom door opened, but inside they found it to be just as empty – a storage room containing rows of kitchen utensils, but like the cafeteria outside, the ceiling lights were alit.

"What the hell is making that sound?" said Falco.

"Over here."

Fox and Falco walked up to meet Peppy standing in the farthest corner where there was a sink sitting below four glass corners of a shattered wall mirror, a ragged paper taped beside it reading **ALL KITCHEN STAFF ****MUST**** WASH HANDS BEFORE SHIFTS**. The entire sink bowl was filled with dozens of pieces of the shattered mirror, each shard rattling from what must've been the source of the vibrations – a small cube-shaped figurine of a dark metal skin sitting on top like an alien egg tucked within a feral bird nest.

"What is it?" Fox asked as they all looked down onto the spectacle, reluctant to touch it.

"It's called a black box," Peppy answered. "A safety deposit box for memories—government tech for confederate operatives."

"Do you think the agent stored the plans inside it?"

"We can hope it's for that and not just some farewell memento for his loved ones." Peppy shrugged. "That is assuming he's dead, along with the first half of our objective."

"That doesn't explain how we found it in this mess." Falco started looking around to the walls. "Whatever happened to this _dot_ that was supposed to be a sole survivor?"

"There must be a portable generator somewhere in here." Peppy stepped away and began searching the rest of the apartment-sized storage room. "If I had to guess, our agent or whoever hid this thing activated a portable power unit to mark its position on friendly scanners for future retrieval."

"Then what about the Venomian signal? Who's the source of that?"

"Hell if I know."

Fox and Falco continued stare down at the vibrating grey cube over the pile of glass. Its ashy black exterior reminded Fox of coal. It continued to cause the glass shards serving as its cushion to rattle obnoxiously, strangely making the pain in Fox's busted ear feel even worse.

"So, are you gonna pocket this thing already?" Falco spoke from his side. "You know, so we can _leave?_ And I can get _paid?"_

Fox grimaced at the alien spectacle. "I'm not touching it until I know what the hell is going on."

"Fox," Peppy's voice spoke up from back towards what looked like a hidden corner behind the stacked rows of pans and plates.

When he turned past the shelves he instantly stopped dead, finding Peppy staring at another spectacle that caused Fox's face to grow numb. But this time the old man glanced back to acknowledge him with a face unaffected by the further presence of death—a lone dead hound propped up on the floor against a once clear white cement wall, which now housed a message.

Fox stepped up beside Peppy and felt his eyes look back down to the hound, who wore a different style of uniform than the standard green apparatus of a Cornerian guardsman. But his torso was consumed in holes and completely stained with blood, and it wasn't until Fox recognized the presence of a black knife handle poking out from the hound's black uniform jacket—_murdered—_that he looked back up to the wall, to where a short message had been stenciled using the hound's own blood for ink:

**What's the name of the game, Fox?**

"The game that never ends," Fox felt the words almost slip past his lips without his knowing.

The warmth that had been hiding within this lone section of the base was suddenly… _gone. _Fox couldn't feel a thing, apart from a sudden river of ice rushing through his veins.

_Survival_

The deafness in his one ear had spread temporarily into the other. He turned around, his soundless steps bringing his body back into the main storage area and his eyes on Falco's arched back—the bird right in the middle of picking the black box up from the sink bowl. He could _hear_ the vibrations of whatever what was _really _causing the glass to clatter...

"No, no, _no—Falco! _Don't, it's a trap!"

"Hey, you know what? I'm sick of standing around here. We got the general's little present, now let's…"

The bird turned around with the box in his grip once the glass—which continued to shake for a couple seconds more—suddenly stopped.

The sudden silence caused all three of them to watch the sink bowl. A vibrant green glow had begun to reflect off of the many different mirror pieces, along with a deathly repetition of _beep_s.

"Oh," Falco managed to speak past a limp beak. "Oops."


	10. Chapter 9

_**Hey, guys. Sorry for the long wait, but I'm finally back and uploading new chapters-lots happened in the past few weeks (college-wise, girlfriend-wise, writing-wise-*sigh* the endless crucibles of that wonderful and terrible thing called 'life'...). Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far-and feel absolutely free to review and comment, and possibly even join the ranks of my army of darkness by becoming my disciple-er, **_**follower**_** (and togethah we shall take and the Lylat System by FORCE) Keep reading, and keep writing -xSimon**_

* * *

**9 – **

_"__Run, goddammit! RUN!"_

The blast came, but there was no rumble. There was a _bang,_ but not the kind they were expecting. A shockwave rushed through—a swift tidal wave of green electricity—and their joggling bodies were engulfed, and on instinct the three of them dropped flat, bracing for a nonexistent rumble, a strange _bang _to pierce their ears, and a _pain_ that turned out to be only imaginary.

_"__No, no, no—NO!"_ Falco's voice yelled as his arms covered his feeble hide. _"Ow, ow—shit! Damn! Freaking—"_

"Take it easy!" Fox shook the bird's shoulder beside his. "Relax… What just happened?"

Something new arose. Suddenly, there was a rumble. This one echoed throughout the hallway and seemed to rattle the entire interior of the base. There was more electric distortion that was immediately followed by a sudden arrival of light. The ceiling above suddenly bloomed in fluorescence – power had come to life within the cold atmosphere and a strong flow of air exhaled from the vents along the walls. Dust and frost were spat out and caused the entire hallway to be flooded with a blinding fog. The sudden brightness caused Fox to scurry to his feet and cover his eyes.

"Are we alive?" Falco spoke up, rising quickly to his own feet.

"Yeah."

_"__How?"_

"I don't…" Fox coughed once he felt his lungs gather up a deep breath of warm, dirty oxygen—_oxygen_ nonetheless—and he quickly stabbed his finger into his ear, trying to block off the now loudened mechanical echoes of the base's resurrection. _"Slippy,_ talk to me—what just happened?"

_"__Major power spurt, Fox,"_ Slippy answered through some static. _"The whole facility just came back from the dead—you must've triggered some kind of emergency power protocol."_

"It was a _bomb," _Falco spoke through his own coughing. "Damn thing was hidden in a storage room."

_"__It must've been some kind of EFP—uh, some sort of electro flux pulse—a powerful one, enough to revive the entire grid. Life support's nominalizing, all the systems are up, and… uh-oh…"_

"What?"

"Ah, _shit," _Peppy hissed from the side. "It was a goddamn mouse trap, and we just swallowed the bait."

Fox turned and glared down to Falco's hands clasped around what must've been their objective, as well as the "cheese" of this particular trap: the black box.

He felt his extremities quickly turn cold, despite the heating was now strong enough that it should've caused him to break a sweat from under his coat.

"And we just woke the cat," he murmured while staring out into the dissipating mist of the hallway.

"Ok, you know what?" Falco grumbled out loud. "Bomb just went off. Head's still spinning. Metaphors are the _last_ thing I need to…"

He was interrupted by a sudden screeching of metal. Something echoed from within the foggy hall that resembled two halves of a door parting ways. The ceiling lights suddenly changed from white to red.

Fox felt Peppy's hand pull him back. The moment he saw Peppy's rifle barrel rise in the corner of his eye, Fox lifted his own at the ready.

_"__C'mon, _what now?" Falco raised his rifle to the ceiling, expecting a spider web of tricks to trickle down from above. _"Aliens?"_

Another clanging of metal caused Falco to drop in line, silent. The three of them sat, watched with eyes squinting as the mist appeared to build up and build down with every passing second. The sounds of the filtration system continued to hum through the corridors beyond. Fox could only pick out Peppy and Falco breathing at his flanks.

Peppy slowly rose from his crouch and began to take a step forward. Fox rose up to follow, but the hare patted him back.

"Easy, boys," Peppy murmured. He took another step forward, scanning the mist with his sights, waiting for a new shape to emerge.

Something did emerge—several silent spectacles. Green lasers began to reflect the mist surrounded the hall, creating several twitching dots along each of their bodies. Fox felt his breath disappear and his teeth come close to snapping off the tip of his tongue

_"__Sentinels! Get down!"_

Peppy dove backwards just as the sound of combat finally arrived into the ghost base. Streams of red suddenly shot through the paths of the green lasers, screaming rapid fire blasts across the walls causing sparks to ricochet from the white paneling.

Fox ducked on instinct, dropping his rifle and reaching forward to pull Peppy by the arm into cover. Another rifle opened up, Falco spraying a volley of his own down the hall, causing the ringing to return to Fox's near-busted eardrums.

_"__He's fine!"_ Falco yelled past the gunfire. _"Pick up your gun and help me out!"_

_"__He's hit, you idiot!"_

"I'm fine." Peppy propped himself against the wall behind the corner, clenching a hissing burn across his half-melted neck collar. "Just grazed me."

Fox turned to peek around the corner just to see one of the green lasers cross his eyes. Ducking back, another stream of red barreled through and erupted sparks over the corner, several wiping across his eyes causing him to bark.

"I can't see _shit!"_ Falco yelled over the blasts from the adjacent corner. "How many are there?"

"More than us," Peppy spoke while reclaiming a grip around his rifle, keeping his other hand pressed against the burn across his neck. "Can we get back into the mess hall?"

"It's locked." Falco kicked his toes against the door behind them.

"That means we gotta run," Fox spoke while pressing tight against the wall next to the corner, Peppy rising back up to his feet beside him.

"What do you mean _run?_ There's nowhere to go!"

"We run through them, back to the lift, or we die right here. They'll overwhelm us!"

"You're one for tactics! We're in a _bottleneck!"_

_"__He's right,"_ Peppy spoke above laser frenzy. "Security drones, they follow protocol. They'll keep barreling in until we're dead, now that they've got us cornered."

"So we run it, then." Falco furiously slipped his rifle around the corner and began blind firing into the hallway. _"Great plan, jackass!"_

"Are you good to move?" said Fox.

"For the last time, it was a _graze."_ Peppy lowered his hand from the burn and took a stronger grip on his gun. "I'll take point. You two stay low and stay on my tail and cover my blind spots – keep in step, and no matter what, don't stop."

"Your funeral, Pops."

_"__Don't stop. Is that understood?"_

Falco fired another blind burst around the corner, shaking his head. "Yes, _sir."_

"Clear a path—light em up!"

The three of them slipped around the corner and began firing. Their blasts sliced through the fog and erupted pops of light from the shrouded end of the hallway. Several sparks popped into life while the green lasers shook violently at their dozen separate sources.

_"__Go!"_

Fox slipped around the corner just as Peppy led the charge. He ducked and held his breath while squeezing in the trigger, feeling the vibrations of his own shots riffle through his shoulder. He forced his eyes open and his pace to remain consistent with Peppy's.

The three of them crossed into the mist, opening up across the entire firing lane. The hissing of red lasers originating from the opposite end continued to tear past, cutting past the seams of their coats. The number of green lasers started to dwindle, soon extinguishing completely.

_"__That's the way!"_

_ "__Keep advancing! Don't stop firing!"_

An eternity-long march through the corridor revealed developing flames arising from figures scattered across the floor. Fox forced his pace to keep up, trying to keep his eyes up off the floor and straight ahead into the fog. His feet continued to brush past and stumble across pieces of metal and chunks of wiring.

A chunk suddenly moved across his ankles and he felt something that resembled hands—_pincers_ suddenly latch around his shins. He slipped and fell to his knees. Twisting sharply around he saw pieces of an arm connected to a half severed torso of a strange chrome robot. A series of barrels stuck out from its metal pectorals in the form of guns.

Fox had only seen pictures of the military war bots called "sentinels"—they'd been originally designed for frontline warfare before being downgraded to security details in and around high-military facilities. They were usually seen outside the confederate embassies standing guard along the gates and landing pads, and would even escort and protect VIPs during summits and council hearings. To see this many in one facility…

_Apparently this base is something important,_ the thought miraculously poked past the chaos and managed to scratch at his attention.

When the bot lifted itself up, Fox threw his back down just in time to miss a series of crooked green lasers pointed to his head, followed by a rapid red stream of actual gunfire. He threw his rifle forward and shoved the barrel tip into the bot's head, pulling the trigger and causing shrapnel to explode across the air and momentarily blind him.

Kicking free and wiping his eyes, he took a deep breath to pull himself back up. His teeth grinded together as he groaned past the rush of adrenaline—_Don't let it go to waste—_and sprinting back into the fog, he raised his gun up and rushed on.

Breaching past the mist, he'd reached the first intersection. Across the center several lasers threw out from around the right corner—_That way—_and he rushed forward to catch up with the others.

The moment he arrived to the corner, he saw Falco dive past and scurry like a rat around the corner, bumping his shoulder blades into the wall while avoiding a lethal stream of laser fire.

"Where's Peppy?" Fox yelled.

"I don't know! I think he rushed on ahead, the crazy old—"

"That's what we gotta do—_C'mon!"_

_"__ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"_

Fox didn't bother to stop. Instead he turned the corner, ducking his head low with his rifle raised. He didn't wait to find a target—he pressed in the trigger the moment he was running directly into the wave of lasers. Quickly he saw numerous bots arrive into a now clear hallway—dozens of gun barrels from their chest arsenals directing their attention to _him,_ only to be suddenly cast backwards with the force of his attack.

His eyes darted from bot to bot—each face of a flat metal sheet that resembled a bit of Rob's design from back on the Great Fox.

_Bucket-heads…_

_You're shooting _Robs,_ Fox_

He ducked around a long wailing arm of one of the sentinels and before he could aim, he saw a blast of sparks and smoke _poof _from a hole where the combat bot's arsenal once stood out. Fox felt a hand grip his shoulder—instead of Peppy's, it was Falco now dragging him forward to keep with a pace that was now an equivalent to a sprint.

Crossing the next corner—his memory of the turns blazing past his attention along with the flashes of gunfire lighting up all around. Bots continued to arrive into view in dozens—fire was lighting up all across him but he couldn't even fathom the prospect of getting shot to death. He could only think about shooting every metal face that crossed in sight. His rifle was a regular workhorse plowing a field of vegetables—the bots themselves continued to fall like rag dolls being split into pieces and cast aside like lost space port luggage. He could only see glimpses of Falco an arm's reach from his flank, going full out blood-drunk commando like him. And even before he completely realized it, the view of the main doors—a lighted sign spelling **TOP DECK**—and they rushed forward with hot fire soaring around their flight coats, tearing past the seams and creating fizzing scars around their shoulders.

_"__This better be unlocked!"_

At once they tackled into the door and caused the two halves to crash open. The force caused Fox to nearly fall face flat—to his side, Falco slipped and struggled to stand over the ice sticking to the rusty steel floor below. Grabbing the bird's shoulder and pulling him upright, Fox pushed the toes of his boots forward while Falco stabbed his clawed toes into the ice and leapt past the fence into the service elevator.

"Press it!"

"Wait, hold up—where's Peppy?" Fox looked around. There wasn't a trace of the hare.

"He's not here, he's dead! Press it!"

Fox was close to knocking a fist against his beak when Falco's head suddenly ducked down, following the ringing of an incoming bolt of fire. Fox ducked beside him, feeling a hot stream coast over his head at light speed. He swung his rifle barrel forward and ripped into a small developing mob of sentinels. A five second burst of fire, he released the trigger—despite his finger felt numb and beyond his control at this point. He finally blinked when his thoughts came to. A dozen more bots lied in a fresh pile along the floor tiling outside along the hall.

"Holy…"

Fox turned to see Falco staring out to the hallway, feathered fingers slowly lowering from his invisible ears. "Where's your gun?"

"I… I dropped it, like two intersections ago."

"You're telling me I was doing the shooting the whole time, you jerk?"

_"__I slipped. I dropped it. I'm sorry."_

_"__FOX!"_

His eyes darted back to the hallway beyond the parted doors. A body just turned the corner—an actual body. Peppy slipped around the corner, firing his rifle back at an incoming stream of red sentinel fire.

_"__Peppy, c'mon!"_

The hare was halfway down the hall when suddenly his torso budged, causing the man to twist around. Fox felt his body jump up from his crouch and rush forward. Peppy turned his torso back to point his rifle back down the hall at the sentinel wave, arm extended and firing the rifle while his free hand gripped a part of his abdominal. Fox met him the moment he reached the door, pulling him inside.

"Take the gun," Peppy spoke past obvious pain. "Barricade the door."

Fox instantly grabbed the rifle and started to pull one of the halves closed. Somebody hopped to the opposite side—Falco pulled the second half closed just as another volley of sentinel lasers catapulted at them, several slipping past the crack in the doorway and erupting sparks close to the lift.

Fox tossed Falco his rifle while sliding Peppy's into the handles, fitting it into a makeshift lock. Turning around, he leapt back onto the lift.

"C'mon, get this thing moving!"

"I've already tried getting it moving!" Falco slammed his fist on the controls, appearing melted after suffering from a recent graze from a laser. "Looks like we're climbing."

"Move." Peppy slipped in between them, grabbing the last rifle from Falco. Without a warning, he pointed the barrel to the controls and fired. The entire foundation of the lift suddenly joggled, and then came to a stone-dead silence.

"Seriously?" Falco shot Peppy a speechless glare.

"Was worth a shot." The old hare shrugged, tossing back the rifle to Falco's stupid grip. "Guess we are climbing."

There was a sudden series of bangs across the door—metal on metal—and they all looked to see several dents form across the battered doorframe.

"Or not."

"Uh, Slippy?" Fox quickly spoke into the frequency. "Slippy, do you copy? _Slippy?"_

_ "__Bout time you call me back—yo, been getting some readings that look a lot like sentinel drones, or some kind of—"_

"Slippy, we're trapped in the hangar service elevator—lots of heat coming our way. Need you to get this thing moving. Like, now."

_"__Oh, could it wait? I got some hot chocolate brewing—touchy process, family recipe—forgot to mention I installed a microwave in this lovebird while winterizing the G-diffusers."_

"Did he seriously just say _Wait?"_ Falco's fury was substituted with more stupidity.

There was another series of bangs from the door. There was a clicking sound that resembled a _crack_.

_"__Slippy,_ for the sake of your unborn children you better be pulling my tail."

There was another _bang_, this one shaking the foundations of the elevator like a defibrillator shocking a next-to-dead corpse. But as if by Lady Luck's hand the elevator continued to shake, and soon arrived back to life and began to rise.

_"__Seriously, though, a microwave would've been a good touch, you think?"_

"Hot chocolate…" Falco groaned. "I'll stick _you_ in a microwave, you marshmallow."

_"__Whatever gets me warm in this freaking blizzard, Fruit Loop."_

Fox felt his body melt, despite the warmth of the lower corridors still hadn't risen up to the elevator shaft, explaining why the majority of the tunnel was lined with sheets of ice. Luckily he could breathe without a respirator, which meant the hangar's life support must've also become operational.

"Goddamn kids..." Peppy groaned from a hidden pain. "Charging right into enemy fire like brainless, gladiator boneheads—and leaving me _behind…"_

"You _did_ say don't stop." Fox walked over, remembering that picture of the hare budging from making contact with a laser bolt. "Did you get hit again?"

Peppy unbuttoned his collar, grimacing from brushing over the fresh burn staining his neck. He unzipped the top of his jumpsuit and opened up to reveal a hard black surface, further revealing a darkened spot along the lower abdominal that continued to hiss from extreme heat.

"I didn't know you wore a vest," said Fox.

"What do you mean you didn't…" Peppy's eyes went from squinty to _open,_ his lips dropping into a monument of angry shock. "You mean _you're_ not wearing a… _Oh,_ you stupid frigging kids. Am I _supposed_ to pamper you sorry little asses?"

Falco leaning beside the control box instantly burst into giggles. Fox leaned back against the lift's fence, glancing momentarily to the ground before feeling himself break into a giggle of his own. Feeling a sting along the side of his face, he felt up and noticed a long line burnt into the fur along his cheek… just one of many fresh scratches, he figured.

_Gladiator kids…_

_Brilliant_

_ "__Sooo…"_ Slippy's voice rolled back into the frequency. _"About those sentinel readings… you guys know anything about that?"_

* * *

"Falco, please tell me you still have that box."

"Relax, I got it right—"

A cloud of sparks suddenly popped from the door console, following a blast from Peppy's rifle. The two halves instantly closed shut, echoing long into the hangar behind them.

"Seriously,_ again?"_ Fox lowered his paws from his ears. "What was that one for?"

"To close it?" said Peppy.

"Why'd you have to shoot it?"

"To _lock_ it?"

"There was a button that said _Lock_ right there on the console, genius."

Peppy grunted. "Old habits. Look, I'm just a bit anxious when it comes to doors, ok?"

"Fear of doors, eh?" Falco grumbled while pulling his half-severed flight coat sleeve farther up his shoulder. "You afraid somebody might smack you in the face the moment you open it?"

"More like _shoot_ me in the face."

"Point taken. Can we leave now?"

The three of them marched ahead into the hangar. The Arwings sat in a huddle, facing the gateway.

"Looks… clear." Falco continued to scan the four corners of the bay down his rifle sight. "Looks like the security systems are out."

"You remember that hangar back in Meteo?" Fox asked Peppy.

"Yeah… keep an eye on the ceiling."

"Slippy, do you copy?" Fox spoke up into his mic. "The power spurt caused a lockdown in the hangar. We need you to open the…"

There was a loud clanging from the giant doors ahead. The primary locking cables began to contract and Fox instantly came to a halt, feeling an icy draft begin to brush across his bare eyes. A blinding rush of snow started to blow through the growing slit towards the ground as the gateway rose and contracted itself into the ceiling.

"That was quick," Fox spoke past the hissing of the draft.

"Little guy's worth every penny," said Peppy, idle at his flank along with Falco.

Whatever grin that was alive on Fox's face became instant history. His eyes blinked at a vague spectacle arising from the rushing blizzard outside, partly visible with the gateway reaching the halfway mark. But in no time—as if to intentionally _strike_ him dead—a craft came frantically screaming past the opening and into the hangar, causing the shrill of a familiar engine to fill the entire bay with vocal chaos.

"What the hell?"

"Should we move?"

The fourth of the Arwings arrived towards the right half of the room and instantly ducked so low to the hangar below that the belly wiped over the flooring, creating sparks and a deafening screech. But the landing was so swift and sloppy that the moment the fighter rocked to a halt not thirty yards directly off their flank, the cockpit glass rose and the little guy himself came leaping from his seat, slipping a little along the instant frost developing along the floor surrounding his frozen fighter.

_"__Holy…"_ Slippy's body convulsed and his arms folded over his torso. "Angels of gods—_it's freezing!"_

"Slippy, what are you…?"

Fox's words drifted away as he watched the toad frantically slip his way towards the back of the hangar. But five _slippy_ steps in, the toad turned and jumped over to meet them face to face.

"Fox—_Fox?"_ he spoke rapidly. "Problem—_big _problem. Mentioned I thought someone's eyes were looking at me? From before? In the fighter? Outside? A ghost—not a ghost. We're in trouble."

"Wait, slow down—what are you saying?"

"He's saying we got company, dumbass," Falco clarified. His beak nodded to the parted gateway.

The draft suddenly grew stronger. A gust carrying in snow brushed at the seams of his half-shredded flight coat surrounding his knees. A chill crept past his collar and mystically ignored his fur and caused his spine to shiver.

There was another entrance of another ship engine… this one not so familiar. Not the _sigh_ of an Arwing but rather the _hum_ of an angered beast.

_Ah, crap…_

From the fully opened gateway leading into the blustery Fortuna afternoon outside, there arose three figures like magic. From the whipping currents of snow, four red engine flashes arrived into view and soon were revealed their sources: three new crafts hovering ever slowly out of the blizzard and into the hangar…

…like a pack of wolves easily advancing onto a cornered prey.

_"__Wolf…"_

The name echoed under his breath without Fox even realizing he'd spoken it. He also failed to immediately realize he'd jumped into an instant dash for the closest Arwing without even knowing he tore away from Peppy's safety grip around his coat sleeve.

_"__Fox, don't!"_

His pace was met with a blinding flash of red making him think he'd been vaporized, until the blur in his eyesight lessoned enough for him to see a fizzing blast mark the size of a bathtub sitting directly at his frozen feet. The ringing in his ears eventually faded along with the blur, and he managed to ignore the strange "brimstone" smell rising from the half-melted alloy inches from his toes. His eyes rose up from the floor and took in the zealous and heart-stopping spectacle of the three suspended wolves, each staring him down, while the one at the center, the _alpha _of the pack…

Each of the fighters were shaped like forty-foot long darts with a series of guns sprouting from the "X" design of their wings and a bloody paint job of crimson coated over a dark steel base. All guns were extended like bared fangs – each individual predator, dormant with their engines growling.

_"__You've got fangs, kid,"_ a dark voice speaking through an intercom echoed out from the central fighter, the alpha. _"But having fangs isn't much help when you're snapping jaws in front of a firing line."_

The alpha suddenly rose its cockpit glass to reveal a control hub glowing crimson, while the wolf in person stood up from his seat to confirm the author of the mystery.

"And you would know a thing or two when it comes to odds." Fox folded his arms, his fear at a sudden standstill—temporarily on top even ground with his growing anger. "And a dumb well-compensated delinquent like me knows jack-_shit, _right?"

Wolf's lips twisted into a smirk while the blue-black fur along his sharp features flared from the gusts of cold rushing in from behind. "Everybody starts somewhere, Fox. But you deserve some credit for skill."

"What a _goddamn unfortunate surprise,"_ Peppy spoke, just when he approached Fox's side. "That must've been what your mother first said after she spat out your sorry ass, O'Donnel."

"Fortunately for me I never knew her." The wolf's dark green flight coat churned from the cold air engulfing his fighter, but nothing else on his body flickered from the cold, not even his grin. _"Peppy Hare… _would you prefer I keep calling you by an alias, or make things a bit more interesting… your _real_ name? Interesting, isn't it, Fox?"

"Quit with the psych antics, you freak!" Falco barked from his other side. "You gonna say anything, start talking about why you're here."

"I think I can guess," Fox added. "To offer another ever-so-considerate business proposal on behalf of _you_ being my number one fan."

"Apologies in advance, Fox." The wolf's bluish black complexion flared as he shook his head, while his eyes refused to look anything other than _all-knowing. _"Not this time."

"So no more dogshit?" Falco spoke back up. "We do this, now? Gun-to-gun?"

"That'd be an excellent idea, Mr. Lombardi, if chivalry wasn't several centuries out of style." Wolf casually reached into his coat and pulled out a familiar lighter and a cigarette container. "Unfortunately, we all have a mortgage to pay, and I'm not paid on the hour for this sort of business."

Fox glanced to the two fighters along Wolf's sides. "Speaking of business," he spoke up, glaring to one fighter in particular, "how're you treating my daddy's fat little traitor?"

"He's currently outside enjoying the weather."

"You mind inviting him in?"

"Easy there, killer," Wolf spoke from his easy stance. The sound of his cigarette lighter flicking free barely came through the engine thrums, a line of smoke rising from his bowed snout. "I'll spare giving you the _Proper p__osition of bargaining_ explanation—_no, _I still won't hand him over to you, now let's stick to the current business, agreed?"

"The sonofabitch is standing right there and I have a _gun," _Falco murmured from the side. "Can I shoot him, please?"

"Don't bother," said Peppy. "Those fighters are Wolvens—top shelf from Venom's arms stock. Their G-diffuse fields are stocked with energy siphons – able to dissolve small arms fire before they can even scratch the hull."

"If Dengar's outside then who the hell is this fourth man?" Fox nudged to the fighter on the right and shook his head towards Wolf. "You not being honest about your numbers, Wolf? Guess I should've expected as much."

_"__Temporary _associate. A boon from my employers for my level of competence." Wolf exhaled smoke past his nostrils and wove a hand towards the fighter at his left. "Don't be shy, Andrew."

_"__Why do you bother talking to this pestilent scum, O'Donnel?"_ a young, shrewd, rather sophisticated foreign accent echoed from the intercom of the fighter. _"If you keep insisting on playing around this mission like an idiot dog, my uncle will have your diseased pelt as a rug—and _I_ will be the one who skins you alive!" _

Fox didn't have to think it over. This new voice had the same accent as Virgil, the ex-Venomian spy he met at the Calidame cemetery. It had to belong to an ape.

"I've been working for the old monkey longer than you've been alive, Andrew." Wolf turned back to give a nod forward, pulling up his cigarette for another draw. "Now calm down… and be polite."

Fox returned him with a _polite_ nod of his own. "Guess I should be charmed to be in the presence of… _royalty?_ That the word you use down there on Venom?"

_"__You should be on your knees before the guillotine, scum,"_ said the ape.

"Aw, that's not fair—Andrew, is it?" Fox flashed a cold grin of his own. "What do you think, Wolf? Old monkey kills my dad, and I kill his nephew. Fair is fair for _killers,_ right?"

Wolf's own snout twisted into a smirk.

_"__You lift a paw and I'll stain the floor with your entrails!"_

"Don't get too scared, Prince Charming. I don't bite as hard as the devil."

_"__Your _bite_ is as poisonous as your name."_

Fox cracked into a snigger. "I think you're actually _trying_ to make me blush."

_"__My people will sing _joy_ while they tear your crying corpse to pieces!"_

"Keep singing, choir boy—you'll be crying _Uncle_ with my boot up your ass."

_"__How_ dare—" There was a sharp hiss that tore past, followed by a sudden glow illuminating the four barrels along each of the fighter's wings. _"Son of the devil!"_

There was another thunderous blast of fire that shot from the monkey's guns and passed by Fox's head… almost twenty feet above. Following the blast that caused Fox's stance to wobble, surprised, there was an electronic buzzer that caused the glowing gun barrels to suddenly go dark.

_"__In the name of—Damn you, O'Donnel! Give me back control, you—"_

The intercom cracked and went into silence. To the row's center, Wolf released his thumb off a risen PDA, casually pocketing the device with one hand while reclaiming his cigarette from his lips with the other.

"Giving guns to monkeys…" Wolf released a smoky sigh. "I prefer not to repeat Lylat's most unfortunate mistake."

"Nice to know we're still wanted _alive,"_ Fox spoke past a tight throat and a slight wobble in his legs.

_You know if I had a _sister…

_I'd say she was a better shot then this shit-tossing blueblood_

The thought caused his tense muscles to loosen back up while Fox turned around to see the glowing blast mark along the wall above the busted elevator.

"Now you wishing you didn't break the only door out of here?" Fox murmured back to Peppy. Almost immediately after, he blinked at a revelation. "Where's Slippy?"

A boot kicked the side of one his own. He looked back to see Peppy giving him a blank stare. The hare's pupils suddenly shifted with a quick glance to the top left corner of the room.

Fox slowly turned back around, staring back up to the Wolvens. Without turning his head he glanced up to the corner of the hanger, and blinked even harder this time.

Slippy was there, utilizing what must've been one of his racial benefits—that is if _jumping_ up scaffolds twenty feet at a time was considered genetic and not some secret super power. The toad—or frog—gradually neared the high point, one impressive jump at a time, just beneath the ceiling, and Fox quickly realized his target… one of the disabled ceiling defense cannons.

_Slippery little snake in the grass…_

"That reminds me, Wolf," Fox spoke up while folding his arms. "Something you once told me—about mistakes? And I'd come a lot quieter with an easy conscious and a better impression of you if I could get a little explanation."

Wolf's posture didn't budge. His eyes continued to examine him while smoke driveled up both flanks of his snout and across his midnight fur.

"That talk about making mistakes," Fox continued. "Learning from your mistakes? You mentioned learning from other people's mistakes. _Other people,_ so I can't help but wonder…" Fox took a step forward and flashed a grin. "Are you honestly that naïve to bring aboard the same scum-sucking piglet that betrayed his entire team just for making an easy buck off an old, crackpot ape? And now _this?" _Fox wove his hand to Andrew's silent fighter. "Naïve? Or perhaps you're just plain mad."

"Perhaps I simply lowered the bar for my organization's terms of recruiting."

"Or perhaps you were just trying to further prove a point… to _me."_

Wolf's voice hummed through the engine hums. "Perhaps."

"I like to think you weren't just being a hypocrite." Fox cracked in a chuckle while shrugging his shoulders. "But, hey, _perhaps_ I'm assuming a little too much given these circumstances, don't you think? Or _maybe—"_

_"__Fox,"_ Wolf rolled in past a low snigger. "If you're trying to buy time for your little green friend—currently MIA—please… Where, o where could he have hopped off to…?"

Wolf's cold voice caused Fox to forget about the freezing draft, but still brought about an endless shiver to his frozen tail. He temporarily held his breath, forcing his dry eyes to not spare a blink or his arms to give a twitch.

"Leon, scan the room,"Wolf murmured. "He couldn't have gone far. See where he's—"

"You're one to talk about _stalling_ with this sorry shit of a spectacle, you _moron,"_ Falco suddenly spoke passionately from the left, sounding less cautious with a growing rage. "I'll tell you something, _Wolf_—the only bitch in my book that doesn't kill when they've got a blade drawn on someone's neck—the kind who takes their sweet time—is called a tyrant. And a _tyrant…_ you can learn a lot about that word just from reading into your beady little-eyed _pet_ slithering around your shoulders, there."

"Falco…" Fox started but stopped when he heard the hiss of metal being freed from a sheath. Looking over, he found the bird slowly raising his hand. With it came a knife, and a grin along the visible corner of his beak that almost resembled a _fox grin—_as if it truly was something meant to be an important factor in a "plan".

"You too much of a sweetheart to talk back, little snake?" The raptor's dagger eyes suddenly switched targets to another fighter, the tip of his knife playfully tapping the corner of his scarlet brow. "Afraid I might fly in and take a few pecks at your eyes? Afraid I might like the _taste?"_ The knife blade tapped against the side of his beak. "That legend about your blinded mother—what started this whole little _ghost story_ about the _Great _Leon… they say her eyes were sweet…like berries… _sooo _sweet that the lucky falcon—the one who pecked them out—he took his _sweet_ time with every bite… _every… little… bite."_

A rush of exhaust suddenly hissed from out of nowhere. Warm mist rushed from the dark edges of one fighter's cockpit, and with the rising glass also rose the little snake himself—the stone-faced _chameleon,_ Leon, taking a stand from his chair. Arm extending out with a familiar pistol that caused a scar on Fox's shoulder to burn—and like repeating history, his body lunged to the side, and stopped in front of Falco.

_"__Wolf?"_ Fox yelled, blocking Falco the best he could with his arms and torso.

_"__Leon," _the wolf's voice finally returned while his body remained in a casual stance.

The lizard's bidirectional gaze was focused on one target. Every scale along his lime green features was still, as if he were about to chameleon the crimson shade of his cockpit for theatrical sake. Soon, with still silence rolling over from Wolf, he lowered the gun, giving a good mannered nod

"Apologies," Leon spoke with his slow, raspy, ever-so considerate tone. "There seems to be enough immaturity within these cold walls, from _all sides…"_

"If you want a hole in the head then you ask me—_not_ him," Fox hissed back at Falco. He softened his stance when the reptile dropped his gun and retreated back into the warmth of his cockpit. "What the hell are you doing?"

_"__Stalling,"_ the bird answered out loud towards the lizard's ship.

"Leon, keep scanning."

"So did you have a plan beyond the dramatic entrance, Wolf?" Fox stepped to the right, glancing in the direction of the Arwings. "What's stopping me from simply… jumping into a cockpit and flying away?"

"Plenty." Wolf flicked his cigarette and pulled up his opposite hand, revealing a pistol barrel of his own. "Example one – I stick to my personal classics by shooting your second in command in the head." The wolf raised his pistol, rather suddenly, taking aim for the hare.

Fox's feet moved on instinct to the right, but Peppy's arm stuck out, keeping him back. While the hare's pale gaze stared down the line of fire, Fox suddenly found himself focused on something on the far adjacent wall to the right—something resembling another door console, this one attached and synchronized to a glowing portable generator.

"Example two…" Wolf's gaze turned back to Fox, the gun remaining focused on Peppy. "I destroy your fighters, stun you three with a neural toxin, and afterwards allow you to watch from a cold distance as I detonate a nuclear device inside this base with your friend frog still in it… Would you like to know more?"

"Yeah, is it frigging possible for you all to _shut up?"_ a long lost voice finally returned from up high.

Everyone turned, everyone looked. Slippy stood high above in the ceiling corner, idle on top a scaffold, leaning like a street punk against the barrel of a more-than worthy savior…

"And I'm a _toad,_ asshole." And with a click from Slippy's fingers the power lights across the turret suddenly arose from darkness, in the shade of red.

The moment Wolf's gun twitched and switched targets, Fox reacted like a spark of electricity. _Electric._ His hand reached around and tore the rifle from Falco's grip. Spinning around onto his knees with a flexibility he didn't think possible, he fired onto the blue glow along the opposite wall. Bolts of electricity shot out of the shredded console, instantly bringing about a deathly flicker from the lighting above. Total blackness skipped across the walls and across his eyes. There were several shots from a pistol, followed by a thunderous series of barks originating from what must've been Slippy's turret.

He couldn't tell which flash belonged to what – the flickering hangar lights or the sudden blasts of laser fire and explosions. He scurried to the side with Peppy and Falco. Another pitch of darkness covered their retreat while a furious series of cannon fire flew from one of Wolf's fighters and skipped across their paths.

_"__Get to the wings!"_ Peppy yelled, pulling both Fox and Falco past their dazes.

"Wait, wait—_Slippy!"_

"Fox, I'm here!" The _toad_ came sliding down the floor past the hectic flashes of red.

Fox instantly pulled him into a love-struck headlock. _"You slippery, brilliant sonofabitch!"_

Peppy pulled them both along as more flashes ripped past the temporary gap of darkness. _"Don't waste it – get in the air and take it to them!"_

_"__C'mon! Let's do this!" _Falco was now roaring.

Fire was flowing through his veins as viciously as the explosions rocking the hangar's foundations. A laugh of ecstatic fury threw itself past his lips – Fox's body was screaming excitement. The hovering silhouettes of the red and black Wolven fighters rolled around one another, avoiding streams of turret fire while firing chaos in all directions.

The second he finally fell into the seat of his Arwing and the green glow of the cockpit interface flowed across his fur, Fox was already grinning like a madman, and so were the rest of the team.

_Let the games begin, Star Wolf_

* * *

Past the chaos of the weather there was a flash that flew past the flurries, and a blast that echoed across the wind.

Streams of red and green swarmed from the hangar gate. The blackness filling the entrance into the hangar fought against a rabid light show. The twin doors creaked, twitched, and the top began to fold down onto the rising bottom. Bolts of fire continued to ricochet past the corners, burning across the thinning opening. With a final desperate push, the gate closed, swallowing both light and sound.

The peace was hurled past the gate, past its mouth with a fiery explosion. A tidal wave of smoke and electricity barreled from a fresh exit, flowing from the breach and into the rushing snow above. Several new lights shot out from the aftermath. Three red glowing orbs screamed into the blizzard outside, and soon four blue orbs sliced past their wake and gave chase. Wolves onto wolves.

* * *

The cockpit suddenly beeped an alert. The lights across the HUD turned red.

_"__Fox, you've got one riding on your tail!"_

"It's Pigma!"

The beeping alert turned into a long scream.

_"__Missile, _missile_—Fox, break left!"_

He twisted the handles of the controls, bringing the Arwing into a stomach-churning turn. The missile skipped past his right wing and spun away into the winding grey.

"Peppy, get this fat lump of shit off my tail."

_"__I'm already on him, kid."_

The sphere of chaos seemed to tighten around the air directly above the base facility. Laser fire filled the gushing atmosphere of snow, flashing like Christmas lights and banging through the wind currents. Fox watched above the glass while the Arwings and Wolvens danced around one another's light trails. Close to the center of his sight he saw one hazy outline of a Wolven loop around the mess and direct its path into a gleaming charge to meet his cockpit.

_"__You're mine, Foxy!"_ Pigma's obnoxious voice squealed unwelcomingly into the radio, ringing Fox's ears.

"Peppy, take him already!"

_"Relax, I got him."_

A concussive blast slapped one of the four bladelike wings and caused Pigma's fighter to parry and spin away.

Peppy chuckled into the frequency. _"I've been wanting to do that for a long time…"_

_"__Oh, _Peppy-Peppy-Bunny-Buddy—_James ain't here to hold us back this time!"_

_"__Yeah, yeah… and he ain't here to stop me from finally cooking your porker ass."_

_ "__Then fire up the grill, old timah."_

_ "__You always were shit with metaphors."_

Peppy's Arwing tore past Fox's flank from twenty feet away, riding onto the hog's tail.

"Anybody got a fix on Falco? Where'd O'Donnel go?"

_"__Fox, get this psycho monkey off me, please!"_ Slippy suddenly yelled. _"He's like… _sticking_ to me like a—"_

_"__Stupid, ugly, _green,_ little freak of nature!"_ The psycho monkey in question—_Andrew_—snarled into the frequency like a feral dog with rabies. _"Keep moving and I'll stuff you back down the slime pit you _spawned!"

_ "__Fox, eh—_FOX?"

"Slippy, just—just hold on. I'll be there in a—"

_"__Let the soldiers have their fun, Fox," _another voice spoke low into the radio.

There was a flashing yellow light beside the video feed. Fox glanced up and down between the nearby dogfight and the console, feeling the pressure of his adrenaline soften in his gums. Eventually, he reached down and flipped the switch beside the screen bringing about a face surrounded in a red glow.

_"__You're starting to see the comedy in all of this," _Wolf's voice spoke, his face arriving into the screen with a twisted smile. _"Pit two angry packs of devil dogs together and it's an instant circus of guns blazing, jokes flying… Never ceases to amaze me."_

"Where are you, Wolf…"

_"__Why not just sit back and relax, kid." _Wolf's form sat deeper into his chair, surrounded by the crimson glow of his cockpit. _"Act military for a minute—a commander watching two armies butt heads from a cozy office window, drinking scotch and sucking down a cigar… a nice _cozy_ distance… Fun, isn't it?"_

"I don't play this kind of game when my friends are getting shot at, you sick bastard."

_"__Friends, eh?"_

"What are you getting at?"

Wolf chuckled. _"Just making sure the military isn't rubbing off on you. Calling your boys _soldiers_ instead of friends – taking orders left and right from an old general who can do that to a young gun…"_

"I'm here under my own flag—don't compare me with just another jarhead."

_"__Right…" _Wolf hummed past his long, dark snout. _"Cus jarheads can't survive under a flag of their own – they have to crawl under another belonging to somebody else. For us, it's a dilemma within a dilemma." _Wolf chuckled, again. _"The sort of dilemma that makes me wanna laugh and cry…"_

Fox felt his teeth tighten together again. He had to force his eyes up from the center of his glass to look out to the side, back towards the crazy fight between rattled hornets, not two hundred feet away from where he cruised…

_Cruised…_

_What the hell am I doing?_

_"__Now you're starting to see it," _Wolf chimed back in. _"Who's the soldier, and who's the businessman. Am I farther to the left, or am I farther to the right. Do I walk… or do I march."_

"Pepper's my employer," Fox spoke while gazing from a _cozy_ distance. "And he's my friend."

_"__If that's the case," _Wolf spoke through a hum, _"then you've got two things to prove…"_

The radio was switched to a separate channel, but somehow Fox could hear gunfire and explosions, and even voices other Wolf's. He could hear Peppy and Pigma's – Pigma's sadistic squeal echoing past a psychotic blood thirst, and the sound of Peppy's front teeth grinding together as hard as his thumb stamping in his trigger. Slippy's—his panicked, high voice continued to call for help, while the fanatical chimp at his tail barked and snapped his mouth spitting out curses. He couldn't hear Falco, nor that reptile, Leon, and for all he knew they were all the way on the opposite side of the planet, or both buried under the snow hundreds of feet below him.

_"__First,"_ Wolf's voice came through just as soft but all the more dominant,_ "prove to yourself you won't hesitate to shoot back at a _friend_ for sending you into a trap that was obviously meant for you—one that he _knew_ about from the very beginning…"_

Fox broke eye contact from the dogfight and glared back down to the video feed.

_"__And last…"_ There was suddenly something new in Wolf's features – something Fox had yet to see apart from the usual calm. It started in the upper lip along his snout, suddenly twitching from something like a muscle spasm, and soon caused it to rise almost to the point Fox could see the tips of his fangs. The yellow eyes gradually widened…

Wolf's expression had suddenly turned into a killer's.

_ "__Prove to _me…_ that I'm not just wasting my fucking time biting into another loyal _dog."

Fox felt his eyes dart up to the top glass directly over his head. He felt his own eyes widen—the air in his lungs vanish—the moment he saw a raging red gleam diving down from above like an angel falling to strike him into damnation.

And from the wings of the demon himself shot a swarm of screaming hellfire.


End file.
